Little Talks
by TheChemistJorax
Summary: A look at the repercussions of a death disturbed, and the bonds bad dreams can create.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A different take on the relationship than what I have been doing of late. Shepard will have more weight to her than she has had in my previous stories, though she is still the same version of the character so of course she still will be a little shit when the situation calls for it. Character oriented, as usual, but this one shall be unlike the scenarios I have previously played around with.

Probably more serious than I'm used to, but no worries, I'm sure my immaturity will sneak in here and there. I tried my hardest to keep away from game dialogue, so things are more often described than related. If that doesn't work well for you guys let me know and I'll change it up in the future. I'll be zooming through the game's opening in this chapter so hang on, I promise chapter 2 will have more original stuff.

* * *

Jane Shepard opened her eyes, squinting at the intensity of the lights that bore down on her form, nearly blinded. Everything was unfocused, blurry. She had no idea where she was, and probably would not be able to recognize the room even if it was a familiar one. She panicked for a moment; vision was more than a little important in her line of work.

Slowly, the colors around her began to take shape, and as she became more aware of her surroundings she realized that circumstances were less than ideal. The ground appeared to be shaking, tremors disrupting the air around her. It was hard to completely focus on that however when her whole body felt as though it had been shoved through a meat grinder. The entirety of her being throbbed and it felt as though her limbs were made of lead. The skin of her face felt tight and stretched across her skull, as though it were a size too small. She lifted a heavy hand to tug at it in her discomfort, but was interrupted.

"Shepard, your scars aren't healed but I need you to get moving. This facility is under attack."

The voice was filled with authority and swam through the air around her. Instantly she felt calmer, more at ease. She knew that voice, had been soothed by it in a long forgotten dream. Reluctantly, she moved, rolling off of the table and onto the floor, unsteadily finding her feet. She barely managed to stand, and stumbled with the first step, having to reach out and grab the table for support.

Shepard winced at the sudden stab of pain that traveled through her body like a wildfire, beginning in her toes and blazing relentlessly until it blurred her vision once more. She gasped and clutched her head with the hand that wasn't gripping the table beside her. She felt like death.

"There's a pistol in the locker on the other side of the room. Hurry."

At length, she managed to straighten up a bit. She took a few careful steps forward, testing how much weight each leg could hold with tentative movements. Apparently, there was no time for such caution.

"I know it hurts, but you don't have time to wait around, Shepard. Grab your weapon and armor."

Shepard paled at the idea of donning heavy armor. Her own bodyweight was difficult enough to sustain at the moment. Scanning the room carefully until she found her target, Shepard moved forward with steely resolution. Every step was like a dagger digging into her calves, begging her to fall to the ground in agony.

She wished she could speak to the disembodied voice but found speech near impossible. Her throat was raw and thick, it burned when she swallowed, as though it had not been used in years. Silently, she followed the commands she was given. She was alone, disoriented, and more than a little on edge. There really was no choice but to trust the voice implicitly, it was the only familiarity to grasp onto in this new world of unknowns.

The armor was a burden at first, but it became easier to bear with each step she took. The more time passed, the more she was growing accustomed to her body being wracked with pain. The throbbing dulled a bit, more likely due to her being distracted with taking out mechs than with any real healing going on.

She moved along relatively well considering her condition, only getting pinned down once or twice on her travels. With the help of her guardian voice she was able to navigate through the more difficult situations. That was why it was such a blow when it was taken from her. She was alone then, in a strange facility with not another human life to be found. Shepard pushed on; though she was shaken and growing weary. The adrenaline of the situation was beginning to wear off, leaving her with little but pure exhaustion. It was more than a small relief when she ran into a man who later introduced himself as Jacob.

"Shepard. What the hell? What are you doing here; I thought you were a work in progress?"

She tried to respond but the words caught in her throat. He looked at her with sympathy, but the moment was interrupted by a fresh wave of mechs entering across the room. Jacob impressed her considerably as they worked together to take them out, and she felt more comfortable with him as a result. He explained as much as he could about how she had gotten there, about the attack on the Normandy and the aftermath of its destruction. It was a frustrating conversation, as Jacob clearly did not have much knowledge on the whole situation.

The news of her death was unsurprising. In fact, the most unnerving thing about it was how unaffected she felt by the revelation. It felt right when he said it, she knew it in her gut. She remembered the notion; remembered the moment when she had known it was going to happen. It was fact.

Honestly, the most surprising thing about the idea of her own death was the fact that at the moment she found herself so undoubtedly alive.

Clearing her throat, Shepard tried once more to speak. It felt like she was gargling gravel, but at least she managed to form words. "Are you with Miranda?" She had picked up that name not too long ago; having done some rushed snooping in a couple of the terminals she had found scattered throughout the base. "She was talking to me when I first woke up. We lost contact just before I ran into you."

He cringed at how raspy she sounded, swallowing hard to soothe his own throat. "Miranda Lawson is the station's ranking officer," he explained quickly from where they crouched together in the small bit of cover the railing offered. "She led the Lazarus team."

Shepard's brow furrowed. "Lazarus?"

Jacob looked apologetic. "I forgot this is all new to you right now." He hesitated. "It was her job to bring you back to life, no matter what. You said you lost contact – could you tell what was happening?"

"There was some gunfire and an explosion right before I lost her," Shepard offered lamely, knowing it was less than comforting information she was sharing.

Jacob nodded. "She knows how to take care of herself, but I hope she's okay. Did she-"

They heard the doors burst open as yet another five mechs burst through and took aim at them. Jacob cursed under his breath before straightening up to open fire. Shepard moved to mimic him, but suddenly found herself unable to function. A bullet struck a mech dead on in the chest, and the machine exploded, taking the one alongside it in its wake.

It was a familiar pattern, the explosion, one she recalled with more clarity than she cared to. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt herself suddenly being thrown out into the void. The dark abyss of space, cold and utterly alone. She started gasping. There was no air. She couldn't breathe. The professional white of the facility slowly faded around her as her vision once again dimmed. She made to scream, but nothing escaped her lips as she folded up into herself on the ground and began clawing at the back of her neck frantically for something that wasn't there.

Jacob finished off the last mech before turning down to face her, concern etched over his features. The very woman they had been working to rebuild, the one he should be protecting, was curled up in the fetal position rocking violently back and forth. Jacob called out to her a couple of times, but received no response. She seemed to be hyperventilating, panicked in such a way that left her unable to respond. The skin on her neck was growing red from where her own fingernails were repeatedly digging in and he was worried that soon she may draw blood. He _really _wished Miranda were there.

"Shepard," he called out once more, holstering his pistol on his belt to free up his hand. He grabbed each of her arms and pried them away from her neck. "You need to calm down. What's happening?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide with fear. Although there was no recognition in her gaze, the physical contact seemed to soothe her to some extent. Jacob knew something must have gone wrong somewhere along the lines of reconstruction and there was only one woman in the universe who could possibly fix this. It was imperative that he get Shepard to the shuttles, and he could only pray that Miranda would be waiting for them.

The woman let herself be pulled to her feet, and her breathing was returning to normal, but she showed no signs of being able to answer him. Jacob kept a hand on the small of her back, and the other on her forearm, guiding her along the halls of the facility. Three times he had to stop, dragging her down behind cover when mechs attacked. Luckily, he was more than a match for the simple creatures, and she never ended up proving as too much of a burden for him to handle. Still, it was a relief when they bumped into Wilson and he knew he would have another gun on his side.

"What's going on with her?" Jacob asked as he patched up Wilson's leg. He figured the man would be able to explain what had happened just as well as Miranda could, given his clearance.

Wilson took the woman in. She crouched next to Jacob, looking on at him blankly, not seeming particularly inclined to speak. Shepard was carefully studying Wilson with a piercing gaze, as though she recognized him from somewhere long ago.

He felt nervous under the woman's intent stare, as if she knew what he had done. Glancing away, he grit his teeth. "I don't know. It doesn't matter now; we have to get off this damn station."

Shepard's eyes flashed in recognition at the sound of his voice. "I know you," she whispered. He had been talking, she had heard him once in another life a long time ago. There had been the face, Miranda's. Miranda's face, and then...

**_"Shepard, don't try to move. Just lie still, try to stay calm." _**

Both men looked up at her in surprise. "Shepard?" Jacob asked, hope creeping into his voice. Maybe it had just been a fluke. A short misstep in her recovery and now the real Shepard was back.

She glanced at him, as if only just realizing he was there. "Jacob." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened back there."

"Don't worry about it," he offered honestly. "Let's just make sure it doesn't happen again and get out of here in one piece."

Shepard nodded in agreement, feeling her senses return to their full potential. It was as if her whole body had gone through some sort of power surge. She had felt so weak, and then out of nowhere it was as though her strength had come flooding back into her system. Shepard stood in front of the two men, and helped Jacob pull Wilson to his feet. They pressed onward, steadily making their way to freedom.

Well, everyone except Wilson. He soon met an unfortunate end in the form of Miranda. Any excitement Shepard had felt at seeing she had made it out of her own predicament unscathed vanished as soon as the woman pulled the trigger on the unsuspecting man.

Shepard kept her pistol trained on the woman, even as she explained Wilson's apparent betrayal. She was glad Jacob seemed to hold the same reservations she did. In the end however, Miranda's story seemed to add up and she did not seem inclined to harm them in any way. It was Jacob's acceptance combined with the heavy weight of her arms causing her hands to tremble that lead to Shepard finally dropping her guard. Miranda had apparently brought her back and had certainly gotten her to the shuttle unharmed, that was enough for Shepard in the state she was in. All she wanted was a long sleep.

As soon as she agreed, Miranda led them both onto the shuttle. A part of Shepard was screaming at her to go back and search for survivors, but she knew that in the state she was in she would only wind up getting herself killed, again. Shepard fell to the seat gracelessly, regretting the clumsy motion immediately as it led to a stab of pain shooting up her spine. The dull ache in her body was intensifying once more as the shuttle took off and the threat of death was disappearing behind them. She could fully focus on the pain now, on how her joints resisted every bend and her every bone seemed to creak. There was a pounding at the base of her skull, seeming to expand throughout her brain with each thud.

Miranda and Jacob sat side by side in the shuttle across from her. Miranda watched carefully as she questioned Shepard on her past, despite Jacob's protests. The commander seemed to remember her history in vivid detail, never faltering from the facts. Her demeanor was more than a little concerning however. Frequently, Shepard's face would scrunch up in pain, and more than once she raised a trembling hand to rub at her forehead.

Miranda halted her other inquiries for a moment. "Do you have a headache?" she asked. Shepard grimaced at her professional tone, knowing any interest the woman had was clearly in her project being a success and hardly in Shepard's personal wellbeing.

"I wish that was all," she joked, and Miranda's eyes narrowed at the comment.

Shepard should be feeling sore, yes, her body being used so thoroughly after remaining on an operating table for so long, but besides some tenderness there really should not have been too many problems. Miranda scooted forward in her seat to kneel on the ground, reaching up to hold Shepard's face between her hands.

"What hurts?" She asked as she held open Shepard's eye with her thumb, gazing intently to examine something or other Shepard couldn't fathom. She was a soldier; it was more about shooting things than studying them. Doctors usually ended up simply leaving the woman confused. Chakwas had had her in this position more than once, Shepard remembered fondly, and more often than not she had ended up being scolded for never sitting still.

"Saying what doesn't would be a shorter answer," Shepard offered with a grimace, hoping to earn a laugh.

Miranda seemed far from amused while she checked the other eye. "I'm going to have to give you a proper examination as soon as we dock. It was far too early for you to be mobile, let alone taking part in firefights." She sighed heavily and returned to her seat, earning a smirk from Shepard.

Her pain was nothing but an inconvenience to the woman. She settled back in her own seat, as Jacob gave Miranda a sideways glance. "Actually," he said softly to her, "maybe we should go up front. I need to talk to you about something."

Shepard fought hard against the impulse to roll her eyes as Miranda nodded and they moved to the front of the shuttle to whisper quietly amongst themselves. She knew Jacob was most likely relaying her little episode to the woman, which would only end up in more poking and prodding for her. Great, Miranda would be thrilled to hear she was emotionally unstable as well physically below her expectations.

Shepard let her mind wander as she waited for them to return. Her thoughts drifted back to the Normandy, to the friends she had made and the adventures they had shared. It was scary; being on a shuttle to god knows where with people she knew little about after being dead for what they claimed to be two years. She wondered why she didn't feel more panicked about the whole situation. Perhaps she was used to it after chasing myths across the universe for so long, the fantastic never really felt very fantastic anymore. Though that was certainly true, it was more likely she was just utterly exhausted and unable to properly process all of the information being thrown at her.

Miranda and Jacob returned to the back of the shuttle just minutes later to discover her passed out against the seat, slumped over gracelessly, and twitching slightly with unsettling dreams.

* * *

Shepard took a tired step back out into the hall, she felt sluggish and at a loss. Instantly she was being called upon, forced into the fray. Some new danger was out there, harvesting human colonies with ruthless efficiency. She was expected to trust this organization, this 'Illusive Man' blindly. He had appealed to her sense of honor shamelessly, constantly telling her she was the only one capable of saving thousands of lives.

Of course Shepard was drawn to the cause, but she had seen enough of Cerberus in her previous travels to know that they were far from a trusted ally. She was fairly affable throughout the meeting, relenting enough to let the man hear what he wanted from her, but her sole focus was on getting back into the hands of more familiar superiors.

The Illusive Man had claimed the Alliance was denying everything, was ignoring this new threat as well as the impending arrival of the Reapers, but Shepard took every accusation with a grain of salt. The leader of a terrorist organization was far from a reliable source of information. She listened to the Intel the man offered with an open mind, storing it all away to later pass on to the Alliance. Getting back where she belonged, finding Anderson, Hackett even, that was what she needed to do.

The man had dismissed her rather suddenly, asking her to send in Miranda after herself. He had said it was not long ago that a colony had been hit, and he wanted Shepard to be there to see for herself if his words had any truth behind them.

Though she did not say it, Shepard hardly doubted the validity of his claims. There was no question that if someone or something was harming innocents she would be there to combat them, Shepard was just dead set on making sure that when she did so she was wearing Alliance colors. The first chance she got, she was planning to slip away.

As Shepard passed out of the room and motioned for Miranda to head in herself, the woman took her project in with a careful eye. Jacob's tale had more than disturbed her. She had known there would be repercussions from Shepard's early awakening, but his story suggested deep psychological trauma. There was no way of knowing if this problem would have arisen if everything had gone as planned, it's not as though someone had ever been successfully revived before. With a heavy heart, she stepped into the circle on the ground, transmitting her image far across the reaches of space to where the Illusive Man sat waiting. He was not going to be pleased with the stunt Wilson had pulled.

He waited until she acknowledged that Shepard was indeed out of the room and the door was securely shut before speaking. "Miranda, I must say I found the reports rather concerning. You had been working quite closely with Dr. Wilson."

Unconsciously, her fists clenched at her sides. He was really asking why she had not noticed his betrayal before the event had taken place, how she had been so careless as to let things escalate to the point they had. "Despite the circumstances Shepard was functioning in battle at her peak capacity. The project was a success." Miranda decided to keep Jacob's revelation to herself for the time being, she already was dealing with enough allegations being thrown her way. She would see to it personally that whatever problems Shepard was having would be sorted out promptly, her employer being none the wiser.

"We'll see about that," he said before taking a sip of his drink. Miranda bristled at the clear accusation in his voice. "Either way, there is nothing to be done about the matter now. Shepard is awake, and our enemies are moving."

"What do you need from me?" She stood a bit straighter, eager to prove she was far from expendable even though Shepard was off of her operating table.

The Illusive Man gave her a hard look, carefully scanning her projected image with a guarded gaze. "I've already informed Shepard that you and Jacob will be accompanying her to the latest colony hit. Keep a close eye on her, as expected she has more than a few reservations about working with us. If the worst should happen, I trust you to be on top of the situation. Sedate her if necessary, though I expect that alternative to be a last resort."

Miranda nodded before stepping out of the projection, the dismissal in his voice had been clear.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was just a starter, so I know it wasn't absolutely thrilling. I'm excited to move on though. We're going to follow the basic plot, but as the title suggests this will be a character interaction story. It will be slightly different than the way I've portrayed them before. The story shall be mostly quiet and always intimate. Thus, most game moments with be mentioned and described, but rarely spelled out for you. Visit youtube if you need a refresher :p


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Uggh this chapter was painful because I started writing the next two already and they were far more interesting to create. Ah, I just love Shep and Miranda talking so much. Discussssssionsssssssssssss.

As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read and/or review. I absolutely adore reading the feedback, opinions, and advice.

* * *

Both Miranda and the woman herself were pleased that Shepard managed to make it through Freedom's Progress without any more debilitating incidents. For Shepard, the worst part had honestly been seeing Tali. She was a dear friend, a familiar face in what had so far been a sea of aloof strangers. A glimmer of hope lit up in Shepard at the reunion, and though she played it calm and collected, she had been near bursting on the inside.

Instantly, her mind had begun buzzing. The Illusive Man had claimed that if she was dissatisfied with the evidence they found, she was free to walk, leaving Cerberus far in her wake. Shepard was far from gullible, and found the statement less than reassuring. She was a project, an asset. When push came to shove and she really tried to leave, he would hardly be holding the door open for her. That was why she figured she needed to somehow subtly get across to Tali that she was not exactly there of her own accord.

Miranda proved to be the kink in her plans. Her clearly overwhelming intelligence had far from escaped Shepard's notice. She was sure to know morse code, or be able to pick apart any verbal cues Shepard could offer her Quarian friend. It didn't help that apparently the Illusive Man had ordered Miranda to watch her like a predator. The cold blue eyes followed her every movement, never wavering as they scrutinized her with a fierce intensity.

In the end, Tali had left, thinking her friend was in complete control of her situation. Shepard had felt a bit defeated as she piled back onto the shuttle with Jacob and Miranda in tow, though far from ready to give up. They returned to the station and once again she was asked to speak with her new employer. The Illusive Man seemed keen to reinforce in her mind just how alone she was in the universe. Shepard could tell it was a clear ploy to make her feel isolated, to coerce her in placing more trust in his people than she normally would have. She refused to let his assertions affect her though. Shepard had friends, she knew that. Powerful ones that would come to her aid if only they knew she was still breathing.

Shepard left their latest meeting, claiming she would help resolve the galaxies latest threat. It was true of course; she merely intended to do it with the military at her back. Miranda was waiting for her just outside the room, Jacob by her side, and a third man standing a few paces behind them.

Shepard's heart sank as she recognized him at once. "Joker?" What had these people done to get Joker here? Had he been captured? Brainwashed?

He took an unsteady step forward, an almost sheepish expression on his face. "Hey, Commander. Just like old times, huh?"

She stood, speechless. This wasn't right, it was wrong. All wrong. Was it really Joker standing there? "What are you…" she trailed off, swallowing hard. "Why?" she finally managed.

Jacob glanced between the two of them, and shifted uncomfortably from leg to leg. "We'll give you guys a couple of minutes to catch up." Miranda seemed to hesitate for a moment, but eventually she followed Jacob's lead and the pair set off down the hall together with matching strides.

With a rather uncharacteristically shy smile, Joker moved closer. "I can't believe you're standing here. I mean, I saw you get spaced." He grimaced at the foul memory. "Shepard," he hesitated, voice getting softer. "About what happened-"

Shepard cut him off immediately. She didn't want an apology, she needed an explanation. "Forget it, why are you here?"

Her head swam as he explained the events following the Normandy's destruction. The team falling apart, the council and the Alliance's reluctance to see reason, it was all as it had been described to her. Joker's story fit the Illusive Man's perfectly, and that left her with two options to believe. Either it was the truth, or something seriously wrong had happened to Joker.

She studied him carefully as he spoke. They had not had time to become the best of friends in their race to catch Saren, but they had gotten on rather well. Joker was a decent sort, despite the mouth he had on him sometimes leading him into trouble. She had trusted the man implicitly with the life of her crew and herself every time he took the helm, now though she found herself doubting his every word.

This was a powerful organization. One she knew as both extreme and dark. They could do anything to anyone whenever they pleased, more or less. Hell, they had brought her back from the dead; Miranda had thrown the words 'control chip' in her face like it was a part of everyday life. Every cell in her body was positively screaming at her to turn and run, to get off of that station as soon as possible.

This wasn't Joker, it _couldn't _be. Was she even herself? If not a control chip, had other means of manipulation been installed in her brain? If she were really back to being her old self, would she have remained placated for so long? Wouldn't she have fought her way out by now? Death. Nobody could cure death. That was ridiculous. Impossible. They had to be lying, didn't they? Was she a clone? A VI?

Could VIs question if they were VIs?

Did they program her with the ability to question it so she wouldn't get suspicious? Did that even make sense? Probably not. Or did it?

An AI? An AI told she was Commander Shepard so that the galaxy would believe it too. Was that her existence? Was she a shadow of a real human being?

"Uh, Commander?" Joker looked concerned. She caught his gaze, and he offered a lopsided grin. "I thought I lost you for a second there."

She swallowed. "Sorry, I sort of," she hesitated, "spaced out for a second."

He laughed, but it only lead her to shudder. The pounding in her head had returned, and it only appeared to be growing in strength. She fought the urge to fall to the floor, to curl up in on herself. There was a pang of nausea shooting through her torso, the taste of iron on her tongue. Shepard wanted to scream. _Needed _to scream.

"If you're finished," Shepard spun around to find Miranda standing behind her, Jacob at her back, "we really must move along now."

**_"Shepard, don't try to move. Just lie still, try to stay calm." _**

Shepard let a heavy breath escape as the words ran through her mind, they seemed to soothe her just as much now as they had when they were originally said.

"Right," Joker responded instantly, clearly ecstatic and ignorant to the panic that had just threatened to cripple his old friend. "Wait until you see this."

* * *

Shepard only waited a few hours in her new ship before making her attempt. The Normandy was utterly silent as she made her descent, the low groan of the elevator making her nervous. Elevators were already the bane of her existence what with their seemingly incurable sluggish pace, and if the noise this one made lead to her downfall now she would never step into another as long as she lived.

Her concerns ended up to be a waste of time however as she made it into the cargo hold without incident. There was not a soul to be found in the spacious room, and she was free to make her way to the shuttle with no fear of apprehension. Once inside, Shepard moved to the front of the vehicle, familiarizing herself with the setup. Once she opened the bay doors everyone on the ship would be alerted to her intentions, she needed to be sure she knew exactly what she was doing and where she was going to make a successful escape.

Part of her was holding back, it felt cruel to be leaving Joker. The ship was well into its night cycle as they travelled towards Omega at Miranda's suggestion. There were hours until they reached the station, making it a good time for a bold move. Shepard had toyed around with a few different ideas before making her way to the shuttle. Joker seemed to have her back, she figured she could probably get him to take control and get her back to the Alliance.

That idea quickly fizzled out however as she remembered the AI she had been introduced to earlier. When it came down to it, Joker really didn't have control over what was supposed to be _her _ship at all. Not to mention the entirety of the crew was comprised of Cerberus members. They could quickly overpower any attempt at commandeering the Normandy with little effort. Even if she was somehow able to keep them at bay with only Joker at her back, it wasn't like she wanted to kill anybody. Jacob and Miranda hardly held her trust, but she wished them no ill will. No, that would never work, she had decided. The only viable option was to slip out herself.

Even if it meant abandoning Joker, she had to get away for both of their sakes. She could find help, come back, stage a rescue. Take out the terrorists, defeat the Collectors, save the galaxy. Simple, easy, piece of cake. It started with one simple action, starting the shuttle and taking off into the unknown. She just needed to figure out where she was going.

Shepard sat back in the pilot's chair, hesitating. Where _was _she going?

EDI's melodic voice suddenly filled the air around her. "I would have to advise you against this course of action, Commander."

Grimacing, Shepard looked up at the ceiling of the shuttle. "Hey come on, help me out here."

"If you proceed, I will be required to inform the crew." The AI sounded almost apologetic.

Shepard shook her head, brow furrowed. "Don't you dare, you're supposed to be following _my _orders." The warning was halfhearted, and EDI never responded. With a defeated sigh, Shepard sat back against the headrest, studying the panel before her with little interest. She had a feeling she wasn't going anywhere tonight, but it would never hurt to be prepared for when future opportunities arose.

It had to be less than ten minutes later when Shepard heard the footsteps echoing around the large room where what was to be her escape shuttle rested. She had been considering simply going for it, shooting off into the unknown, most likely crashing onto some uncharted world where she could waste away in peace. It had to be better than this, this half existence she had been given. A new life, one without essence or warmth. She felt lost, overwhelmed, frightened, angry.

Shepard grimaced suddenly. This plan made no sense. It was so obviously doomed to fail. It was a ridiculous attempt, idiotic to say the least. Stupid, just plain stupid. She was being stupid. Had she always been like this? Had she always been stupid?

Groaning as the pounding in her head returned once more, she ran her hands through her hair, brow furrowed. Why couldn't she place anything that mattered? What had happened to her life? Her essence?

Every thought, every dream, every action, every memory, it was all there. Vivid, constant, like a movie reel turning endlessly in her mind. She remembered every insignificant detail of her life, things that at one point she knew had been long forgotten. Cerberus had painstakingly stitched and woven each point through her mind. Her head was overflowing with facts.

Name. Age. Weight. Height. Rank. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Deaths. Births.

But where was the emotion? Where were her feelings? Why couldn't she remember those? There was uncertainty, fear, anxious energy. Those things swirled through her systems, constantly making themselves heard. But where was the love? Joy, excitement, compassion, it all felt so very far away, so out of reach.

Shepard sort of just felt like she wanted to die.

Miranda entered the shuttle without a word, taking the seat beside her charge with sure steps. When Shepard did not seem inclined to speak, she crossed her arms, looking straight ahead. "So where are we going?"

Shepard scoffed, clearly amused. "I should have known I couldn't trust that little traitor."

She noticed Miranda's expression soften from the corner of her eye. "Don't be too hard on her, Shepard. She was bound by protocol and programming to wake me."

With a grimace, Shepard turned her head to observe the woman. Miranda was far from her usual stoic presence. She was in her sleeping attire still, barefoot and clearly groggy, but she had shown up nonetheless. "I'm sorry," she said honestly.

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "An apology would only be warranted if you had actually made it off the ship."

With a grin, Shepard nodded in understanding. "That would probably get you in a fair bit of trouble, huh?"

"An insurmountable amount." It was the first time Shepard had ever seen the woman smile. A surge of pride flowed through Shepard at the thought that she was the cause.

Facing forward once more, feeling suddenly self conscious at her clearly idiotic effort that had failed before it had even began, Shepard stretched her arms out in front of her with a loud yawn. "Well I'd hate to be the cause of that." It was a teasing remark, though Shepard had put some honestly into the words. She felt her arms twinge at the action, and she winced before her hands fell into her lap.

Miranda, who had been watching her movements with a careful eye, leaned forward in interest. "Has the pain been consistent, or is it receding?"

Shepard shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant about the situation as she could. "Just a bit tender, I suppose. Though I feel like that's fair considering the day we've had." She looked away, leaving the part out about her near chronic headaches. Miranda could analyze her body all she wanted, but Shepard's mind was her own concern.

"Indeed." Even as she said the word, Miranda seemed dubious. Though she did not push the topic further, Shepard quickly realized she would have to become far better at dancing around the truth to keep the likes of Miranda Lawson disillusioned for long.

With a heavy sigh, Shepard stood, Miranda mimicking her movements at once. "I guess I'll go to bed then." When Miranda offered a skeptical look, she could not help but laugh. "For real this time, I promise."

Miranda nodded, for some reason she took the woman at her word. As they filed out of the vehicle together, she found her mind wandering. Shepard had been a great woman once, a force to be reckoned with to some and a friend to the rest. She had brought her back, but had far from restored the commander. Whether she liked it or not, Shepard was her responsibility now, beyond even the duties the Illusive Man asked from her. Shepard's pain, her instability, they were all from Miranda's influence. The burdens Shepard now carried, she resolved that night to endure them right alongside her.

This thing, this rebellion against death, they were in it together.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So last night I wrote the final scene and now I just want to get to the last chapter. Ugh. The life of a shipper is a tough one indeed.

* * *

Miranda grimaced as she opened the message that had just arrived to her terminal. The Illusive Man had requested Shepard speak with him in the debriefing room over half an hour ago, and she had still neither responded nor shown up. Now, of course, it was her responsibility to babysit Shepard and make sure she stuck to her appointments. It was a far cry from being in charge of reviving the dead.

The mission to recruit the Salarian scientist had gone surprisingly well. Shepard had proven to be efficient and capable as the leader of a squad. Miranda was still having a few difficulties putting aside her impulses to take charge if she were to be honest, but that mission had been easier than the first. As long as Shepard continued obtaining results without breaking her trust, Miranda would grow more and more comfortable with the situation as a subordinate.

After bringing Mordin on board, it was decided a short break was warranted before going after Archangel. They returned to the ship to rest and recuperate, Shepard immediately heading to the top floor to wash all traces of Omega from her skin. Reluctantly, her XO took to the elevator, heading up to see what was holding the woman back. She found she actually wished it was Shepard being immature and refusing to acknowledge the Illusive Man's request, as that was far better than any of the other alternatives she could come up with.

As soon as she entered the captain's cabin, Miranda scanned the room quickly, though she knew she would find nothing. Quietly, she made her way over to the bathroom door. Something, maybe the stillness of the atmosphere, told her she should make as little noise as possible. Unwilling to simply burst in on her charge, Miranda lifted a hand and knocked softly on the door. When there was no answer she tried again, this time using a bit more force.

"Shepard?" she called out as kindly as she could manage. There was no response, but she could clearly hear the water running on the other side of the barrier. "EDI," she asked suddenly, "how long ago did she enter the bathroom?"

"Just about forty minutes ago, Operative Lawson," the AI chimed around her.

Way too long of a shower for someone who was well aware of the limited supplies they had on the ship. It was inconsiderate, something Miranda now knew Shepard was not. She tried not to imagine the woman passed out on the floor as she thanked EDI for the information. Making a quick decision, she overrode the lock and stepped inside.

Shepard was not passed out, no, but it was more than apparent that all was not well. Their fearless commander sat on the floor underneath the showerhead, pulled as far into the crook of the corner as she could be, legs drawn up to her chest, hugging herself tightly. The water beat down on her mercilessly, turned onto its full power even though the woman was fully clothed in her Cerberus uniform. It was impossible to tell if she had been crying due to her situation, but Miranda would not be surprised if she were. The look on her face was one of pure anguish. It was a haunted woman who sat on that floor, one tormented by the ghosts of her past and unable to cope with the strain.

Miranda hesitated for a few moments, reluctant to intrude on a personal level. Her sense of duty quickly kicked in however and she took a few steps forward. "Shepard," she said softly, and was not surprised when the woman did not look up. Her eyes were wide and unfocused as she stared straight forward at an unimaginable horror only she could witness, Miranda was clearly not even in the same world as Shepard in that moment.

With a heavy sigh, Miranda reached forward to turn off the water flow. She immediately withdrew her hand however as soon as the water hit her. Even through her gloves, the heat seared her skin. Panicked, she looked more closely at Shepard to see any exposed skin on the woman was near red from the high temperature, all but burning her flesh. It was not enough to do any real damage, but the idea was concerning nonetheless. Gritting her teeth, Miranda reached forward to successfully turn the shower off. Shepard obviously did not even register the change in her environment.

Now that the water flow had ceased, Miranda could make out some faint murmuring. Shepard's lips were moving slightly as she babbled out an unintelligible stream of nonsense, a code that only made sense to her own broken mind. Her mouth was moving so quickly, Miranda could barely make out the action at all. Finding herself genuinely concerned, she took the last few paces necessary to reach the woman's side, leaning against the wall and sliding down it until they were sitting next to one another. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as the damp floor quickly soaked through her uniform, but she managed to ignore her discomfort.

"Shepard?" she tried again, softly. She did not want to startle the woman too much, as she could end up endangering them both should Shepard feel threatened and lash out in her apparent delirium.

Again, she got no response. In fact, Shepard appeared more distressed now that the water was gone, her hands flying up to run through her wild red hair, grabbing fistfuls and tugging in a way that Miranda was sure must be painful.

"Jane," she tried, reaching out a gentle hand to rest on the woman's forearm. The skin there was hot, still heated from the water and sporting an angry pink rash as a result. At the contact, Shepard's head turned almost violently to face the intruder, though she did not strike out. Instead, she let out a wild gasp as if she had just erupted from a long trip under the ocean. She began panting heavily, eyes wide, chest rising and falling uncontrollably as she tried to get her bearings.

"I can't-" she gasped out, pausing to swallow before resuming her frantic shallow breaths. Miranda's eyes narrowed as the woman hyperventilated, glancing around the room without taking anything in, clearly uncertain of where she was. "I can't breathe," she cried suddenly. Her hands shot up to the back of her neck, clawing at the skin there. Miranda pulled away, suddenly feeling nervous, before coming to her senses and reaching out to stop the violent process before Shepard ended up hurting herself. "I can't breathe," Shepard cried out again as Miranda took both of her hands in her own and brought them down to Shepard's sides.

"Yes you can," Miranda soothed quietly. Shepard's wild eyes flickered to meet her own at last, though the woman clearly didn't believe the reassurance. "You can," Miranda said again, still keeping Shepard's arms pinned down. "Just go slow. Long, deep breaths." She took an exaggerated one of her own as Shepard watched her, hoping her commander would be inclined to mimic the action. Shepard was, and they continued on together until their paces matched and their bodies moved in perfect rhythm.

**_"Shepard, don't try to move. Just lie still, try to stay calm." _**

With each breath, Shepard's distress eased and she seemed to become more aware. It was easy to tell when the woman was fully back in the present, and Miranda released her grip, leaning back against the wall. "Better?"

Shepard relaxed against the cool tiles and nodded with a hard swallow. "Sorry," she whispered, and had the good grace to look embarrassed.

Miranda bit her bottom lip subconsciously as her mind raced. The project could not even tentatively be called a success, Shepard was clearly unstable. It wasn't the woman's fault of course, it wasn't even Miranda's. There hadn't been enough time, Shepard hadn't been finished and Miranda hadn't properly prepared herself for the ramifications. They both were ill-equipped it seemed, and more than a little out of their elements. "You have nothing to apologize for," she offered truthfully at length.

There were a few moments of silence before Shepard side eyed her savior. "You must think I'm crazy," she whispered with a bitter laugh.

Miranda glanced at her, a pang of pity throbbing in her heart. "No, Shepard," she said, sounding almost sorrowful to the younger woman. "I think you're the first person who has ever conquered death and nobody was truly prepared to face what that really means. We're flying blind here."

A reluctant smile graced Shepard's face, surprising Miranda. "You really are some kind of super genius, huh?" She laughed, though there was little humor to be found in the sound. "Every time somebody says it I just-" she shook her head, clearly bewildered. "You cured death. It sounds like something from a science fiction story."

Miranda felt her lips quirk up for a second, amused by Shepard's admission. "I had more than a little help," she reminded, none too keen to take credit from the dead. Dozens of scientists had made Shepard's return a reality.

"It was you, though," Shepard maintained. "You remade me," there was awe in her voice, and then she let out a rather unladylike snort. "Your own personal Frankenstein."

At that, Miranda really did smile. "Creature," she amended with a smug smirk. Shepard gave her a hard look. "I would be Frankenstein," she offered, suddenly feeling self conscious as Shepard's face broke into a wide grin.

"You would be one of those people," Shepard responded with a laugh.

Miranda's eyes narrowed, though there was mirth evident in her gaze. "Come on," she said as she stood, smoothing out her uniform unconsciously by running her palm across her stomach. "If you have strength enough to make fun of me you have strength enough for a quick meeting."

A flash of irritation crossed Shepard's gaze before she relented and stood. Miranda was far from disillusioned about Shepard's relationship with the Illusive Man. The two were off to more than a rocky start, and she knew it would not be long before her employer looked to her to mend the connection. Luckily, Shepard seemed to show her no ill will despite her affiliation with the enigmatic man and his enterprise.

"Thank you," Shepard offered suddenly, sincerity rippling over in each word. "For everything," she hesitated for a moment, "even if I am a little crazy."

Miranda nodded, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Jacob had been assigned to the ship to be a personal connection for Shepard, to offer friendly advice and the sort of camaraderie that only a fellow soldier could provide. She wasn't good at the emotional and supportive aspects of dealing with people. Shepard was her project. If the woman needed an examination or an evaluation Miranda was more than happy to lend her aid, otherwise, she was keen to hide out in her cabin and take orders when necessary.

"Of course," she managed lamely, not quite sure what else the situation warranted. Shepard seemed amused by the reply for some reason, but said nothing else on the subject. "I hope you understand that we cannot afford to ignore this. When he dismisses you, I think it's important you face these issues and figure out what exactly has been triggering them. Of course, I'm sure Kelly has made you aware of her credentials. I'd like you to speak with her as soon as you are able." Miranda seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Or, if need be, my door will be open as well."

Shepard considered her words for a moment, and then nodded. "Let me get cleaned up," she said suddenly, "then I'll go talk to your boss."

Miranda nodded in return and backed out of the room, heading for the door. She waited until she was in the elevator, doors closed and slowly moving down a floor until she called out to the AI once more.

"Yes, Operative Lawson?" EDI responded promptly.

"If anything happens like that again, please notify me immediately. Any panic attacks, unusual sleeping patterns, increased heart rate, make sure I hear about it. It doesn't matter what time it is or where I am."

"Of course."

"Thank you, EDI." Miranda let out a heavy sigh. Although she wouldn't know more until she was able to question Shepard further, it appeared as though the whole mishap had taken place in the bathroom. Luckily, they had afforded Shepard enough dignity to not place any surveillance devices there. As long as that was the case, her little lie of omission was safe from the Illusive Man's prying gaze. She wasn't quite sure how he would react to the knowledge of Shepard's mental state, but as long as she was able to keep the woman in check, she would never find out.

As soon as she had returned to her cabin, Miranda sat at her terminal and got to work. It was a risky process, but she had enough technical knowhow to pull it off without detection. She created a program that would affect the various bugs hooked up around the ship, a random sequence that would constantly be changing, rendering one or two useless for a few minutes at a time. By keeping them infrequent and random, it would merely be seen as a small deficiency in the set up by those observing them, a minor inconvenience. It would enable her to talk to Shepard in the future and cut the audio feed off without raising too much suspicion. Miranda could only hope that she could get Shepard sorted before things got too out of hand.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter is already almost done, just gotta figure out how to end it. Finally I goet to do a wee bit of fluff at last. A _very _wee bit, but it tis enjoyable all the same.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi, sorry about yesterday. My only excuse is that I just didn't feel like typing at _all._ Also my backspace key is giving me trouble, the little bastard.

Anywho, you guys are so nice and supportive. I freak out a little bit at every review, so thank you very much. I hope that nobody minds this story being as slow as a turtle with commitment issues proposing to his girlfriend. It'll pick up eventually.

* * *

Miranda was more than a little surprised when her doors opened and Shepard stepped through, looking almost shy in her entrance. It was a bit of an ego boost, the fact that Shepard felt more comfortable discussing matters with her over Chambers. Though she was far from a kindly therapist, Miranda was not at all a novice when it came to reading into things and analyzing situations. Her own emotions were a difficult concept to work through at most times, but she found the she could handle others with far more finesse.

Though it made her somewhat uncomfortable, she was indeed interested in helping Shepard sort out her problems. For starters, she wanted as few people to know about the woman's little mishaps as possible. She was not keen for her failures in restoring Shepard to get back to the Illusive Man due to gossip, especially since that would reveal the fact she had been withholding the information from him in the first place. On a more personal level, she wanted to get Shepard on the right track for her own peace of mind. Project Lazarus had become a corrupted experiment, one she was keen to see get back on its intended course.

"Hi," Shepard shifted her weight from leg to leg as she spoke, rubbing at the back of her neck in embarrassment. Miranda took pity on her, she more than anyone knew how troubling revealing something that could be perceived as a weakness could be. Miranda was about to respond, when she caught a proper look at the arm Shepard had raised.

The commander was in the Cerberus uniform she had been given, and her bare forearms were exposing what her armor had earlier hid. There were long red streaks down the arm, shallow scrapes that nearly covered the expanse of skin. Miranda's eyes flicked to the other arm to confirm that it too carried the markings. She stood from her desk, alarmed.

"What happened there?" She made her way around the desk to stand in front of her project.

A look of unease graced Shepard's features, and she let her arm fall quickly, sliding both behind her back. "It's nothing," she mumbled. At the hard look Miranda gave her she was forced to elaborate. "I dunno," she was clearly humiliated as she spoke, "I guess it just happened in my sleep or something. I didn't do it on purpose."

"What?" Miranda's tone was sharp. She reached out to pull Shepard's arm closer, concerned by the revelation. "What happened?" Miranda cursed herself for not noticing earlier when she had found Shepard in the shower. Of course, the woman's skin had been flushed red with the intensity of the heat which helped disguised the markings, but that was still no excuse. She had been so focused on Shepard's meltdown that she had missed a crucial detail. It was foolish of her, careless.

Shepard wrenched free of the hold suddenly, obviously irritated. "Stop that," she said with a clear scowl on her face. Miranda looked up to meet her gaze, visibly taken aback. She had been helping, that was her _job._ "You just grab me whenever you want. I'm not just something to inspect anymore, I'm no longer a hunk of meat."

Miranda was silent as Shepard shot her a challenging glare, daring the woman to protest. She licked her lips, fighting the urge to snap in her frustration. Did Shepard think she was _enjoying_ this? Did she think Miranda got some sick pleasure out of having to analyze her every second of every day?

"I'm sorry," she finally offered at length, though her exasperation at being challenged clearly radiated through her voice. Miranda took a deep breath, remembering the Illusive Man's words. That very morning he had given her a message, practically a warning. She was the face of Cerberus in his stead, she had to win Shepard's approval. Gently, she reached out a hand. "May I?"

It took a few moments before Shepard nodded, she was clearly still weary. Miranda studied the superficial wounds with a careful eye once she had the woman's permission to inspect them. "We should find you some shirts with long sleeves that you are comfortable sleeping in. I also want you to keep your nails as short as possible."

"Is that an order?" She looked up to find something akin to a smirk on the woman's face.

"It's a suggestion," Miranda shot back, though she found her voice contained less hostility than she had intended. She dropped Shepard's hand and moved back to her desk, motioning for Shepard to sit down in the empty chair in front of it as she did so. "I take it you were having nightmares?"

When Miranda took Shepard in from where she sat behind her desk she could clearly see the woman wrestling with herself in her own mind. She had no doubt that Shepard was less than thrilled about talking about topics as intimate as dreams with a virtual stranger. There was silence for a significant period of time, before Shepard suddenly shifted in the chair, clearly uncomfortable. "This was stupid," she said quickly. "I should just go."

"You need to talk about this, Shepard." Miranda ran a hand through her hair, trying to soothe out her own frustrations. "If you find you are uncomfortable with me then go to Kelly. Chakwas even."

Shepard gave her a pleading look, trying to convey her emotions with her eyes alone. Miranda had to know _she _wasn't the problem. It was the entire issue itself. It was horrible and private and embarrassing and the last thing Shepard wanted to talk about, with _anybody_.

"I just feel stupid," Shepard finally admitted. "Weak. You all were expecting so much and I just-" Her voice faltered suddenly, and she swallowed hard. "God," she ran her hands over her face, "I don't even know anything about you and I feel like I have to pour out my soul."

Miranda gave Shepard a hard look for a moment, and then seemed to make a decision as she leaned forward on her desk, a surprising glint of mischief shinning through her gaze. "If that's how you feel then how about this, an answer to a question earns the answer to a question."

Shepard's hands fell to her lap as she considered the offer for a moment before a wry smile graced her lips. "Are you using the tactics of a child psychologist on me, Miss Lawson?"

Offering one of her rare smiles, Miranda raised an eyebrow. "That depends on if it's working or not."

A laugh bubbled out of Shepard, unbidden. "I think it just might be." She grinned. "I'm certain you have every intention of making the first move."

Nodding, Miranda clasped her hands together on the desk in front of her. To Shepard she looked every bit the part of the stern schoolteacher. "Have you been having nightmares?" she asked again. They had spent three 'nights' aboard the ship together now, Miranda hated herself for not knowing the answer.

"Yes," Shepard replied without missing a beat. She thought for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration. It was uncertain how long this little game would last, or if they would ever be playing again. Every word counted. "Favorite color?"

Miranda's eyebrows shot up, and she couldn't fight the amused smile that spread across her face. She had fully expected to spend her time tactfully working her way out of revealing Cerberus' innermost secrets with a whole lot of careful and intricate wording.

Funny, she found no answer came to mind. "Red?" she tried rather lamely, scowling when Shepard seemed more than a little amused at her apparent indecision. Miranda quickly pushed on. "A reoccurring scenario or different situations and images each night?"

"Reoccurring," Shepard answered dismissively. "First pet?"

Miranda shrugged. "Never had any." Shepard seemed intrigued by that, as though she found it hard to believe. "Do they all involve the destruction of the original Normandy?"

Shepard glanced away, clearly reluctant to make eye contact as she answered Miranda's question. "Yes." She paused as she thought for a moment. Shepard knew exactly what she wanted to ask, she just did not know how much her XO would let her get away with. Miranda seemed to be in a decent mood at the moment, but Shepard was under no delusion that that couldn't change at the drop of a hat. If she pushed too far, she could easily wind up in trouble. Still, Miranda's expression was passive and her eyes held a light of patience. For some reason, it made Shepard feel like taking a risk. "What do _your _nightmares entail?"

Though her expression remained relaxed, a gleam of defiance flared in the woman's eyes. Shepard studied her carefully as Miranda seemed to contemplate just how much of her soul she felt like bearing that day. There were a few moments of silence before she appeared to come to a conclusion. "Not the destruction of Alliance warships."

Shepard smiled at the response. There was no anger in her voice, but Miranda's meaning was clear. She had better find a new line of inquiry if the discussion were to continue.

"Do you witness any deaths?"

"Only one," Shepard answered, being intentionally vague. She smirked as Miranda's eyes narrowed. The Cerberus operative was too sharp for her games; she knew Shepard was merely trying to draw the session out. For what purpose she couldn't say, she only knew that it was rather irritating. "Where do you feel most comfortable?"

Miranda considered that a moment, leaning back in her chair with careful thought. "Alone," she responded at length.

Shepard grinned. "I didn't say when, I said where."

With a guarded gaze, Miranda seemed to almost challenge the statement. "I know," she said resolutely. "Your death?"

A curt nod was the only reply the commander offered. "If I prove to be more trouble than I'm worth, would your orders compel you to dispose of me?"

Miranda visibly stiffened at the question. The directness of it had actually taken her by surprise, a feeling she wasn't used to experiencing. Her mind was torn by indecision. Shepard was an interesting specimen. Miranda found her intriguing to say the least. Every bit of her training told her to lie to the woman, to comfort her unease and tell soothing falsehoods until she was all but enamored with her employer's organization. That would definitely be the proper protocol to follow, and yet, she knew far more about Shepard than she ever had before. The woman was an honorable soldier with old fashioned values, she was looking for honesty and integrity above all else.

Miranda licked her lips nervously before answering, hoping her gut instincts were steering her in the right direction. "Yes."

Shepard turned the admission over in her mind for a few moments before speaking. Miranda was looking at her expectantly from behind her desk, as if she were waiting for the woman to stand up and bolt from the room at any second. All that Shepard offered though was an almost smug smile. "I believe it's your prerogative, Miss Lawson."

Impressed by the commander's restraint, Miranda nodded in approval. If she was outraged by the information, Shepard wasn't going to throw up a fuss about it. She recollected her thoughts for a moment before settling on the next question. "If I gave you the opportunity, would you run?"

A wide grin pulled across Shepard's face. "Undoubtedly."

An odd sort of understanding passed between them at that, and it all but forced Miranda to smile. Whatever it was that was settling between them, this rivalry, this tentative friendship laced with equal parts respect and healthy distrust, it was all rather exhilarating to her. She had never had that sort of relationship before. Since day one it had always been the same. Subordinate or superior, nothing more, nothing less.

And then there was Shepard, and Shepard was offering equality.

There was going to be no lying here, no betrayal or backstabbing. If Miranda was asked to apprehend Shepard, the commander would know. If Shepard was going to flee, it would be made obvious to Miranda.

"Birth date?"

Miranda offered a bitter smile. "None. At least not one that was ever recognized or acknowledged." Shepard raised her brow in pure interest, questioning Miranda's apparent nonchalance concerning the topic more than the actual answer itself. Crossing her arms, Miranda continued. "I was grown, not born." Miranda could tell from the look on Shepard's face that more explanation was needed. "My father designed and then created me using extensive genetic modification to dictate everything from my intelligence to my Biotic ability." She offered a wry smile. "Obviously not my choice."

Shepard nodded her understanding, though she gave little away as to what she thought about the subject. Miranda decided it best to move on, and hoped her matter of fact manner discouraged Shepard from pursuing the topic further. "Backing away from the topic of dreams for a moment, what events seem to trigger your other," she hesitated, glancing away, "incidents?"

Instantly she felt guilty for asking the question even though it was necessary, as Shepard's eyes darted to the floor, clearly in shame. "I don't know." She began shifting about in the chair again, clearly self conscious. "Sometimes it's a bright light or a loud noise. A rush of cold air or like, this little tickle right here." She lifted her hand to tap at the back of her neck. "And sometimes," she let her hand fall, "it just starts for no reason at all."

"Are there any actions you believe I could take that would help ease the burden?"

The words were out of her mouth before she had really thought about them, and the smirk Shepard was now sporting threatened to split the woman's face in two. "Two questions? That's cheating, Miss Lawson." Miranda glanced away, embarrassed. She had broken the rules of her own game. Shepard gave her a break though, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms in much the same way Miranda was. "If I knew the answer to that, I probably wouldn't need to be here."

There was silence for a few moments as Shepard tried to settle on her next inquiry. Miranda's inclination to play her cards close to her chest gave her an almost mysterious air, there were many lines of questioning she would find interest in opening. Once again however, Shepard reminded herself that Miranda was being the generous one in this situation. She had no obligation to respond to any question, and could end their little back and forth at any moment. Every subject needed to be chosen with care.

"So what did Cerberus have to do to earn such devout loyalty from a capable woman like yourself?"

Again, Miranda hardly flinched at the question, though Shepard far from missed the flash of irritation that shone briefly in her gaze. It had been a stupid move, Shepard decided instantly, it had been far too early to broach the subject. Still, the words were out there and the ball was in Miranda's court now. It had been a topic that had been bothering Shepard for quite some time. Both Miranda and Jacob were far from what she had expected as Cerberus operatives. It hadn't taken her long to figure out Jacob, he was a soldier and a good man, trying to make a difference in the galaxy before the end of his days. The rest of the crew were inconsequential; they stayed out of Shepard's way for the most part, reporting more to Miranda than the commander.

Miranda was the difficult one to figure out, the one that required a second look. She had been more than a little standoffish in their first meeting. "I'm not looking for a friend," she had said when Shepard had been first inclined to pry. Though that still seemed to hold true, here they were. Miranda had been offering her nothing but support since they had boarded the Normandy, possessing quite a bit of patience. Of course, Shepard knew what the woman's motivations were. This was a job, she was a project. Still, Miranda was being rather accommodating throughout the whole ordeal, something that certainly earned her points in Shepard's book.

There was good grace and an intriguing thoughtfulness in the way Miranda operated, a trait Shepard had not found common in the operations of Cerberus. If she were honest, the woman seemed almost out of place wearing their colors in a way that even Jacob did not. There was too much _more _to her, a history behind her eyes that compelled Shepard to dig deeper and deeper no matter how much Miranda pulled back.

"I find I don't care for the implication of that question." Miranda was nearly glaring at her from over the desk. Shepard had worded the question as though she believed she were being manipulated or had been tricked into doing the work that she prided herself on. It was more than a little insulting.

Shepard held her hands up defensively, though she still wore a smile. "I meant nothing by it. I was merely curious."

With a sigh, Miranda rubbed tiredly at her forehead. "Shepard, Cerberus is not as evil as many people believe and if there is anything I can say to allay your concerns then I would be happy to do so, but my personal stake in the organization is hardly any of your business. Cerberus believes in the betterment of humanity, a sympathy I strongly share. That alone is justification enough for my position."

"I simply thought that someone as intelligent as yourself would see the issue in giving a single man complete control of all resources, projects, and major decisions. Surely there must be safeguards in place to control him if things were to ever get out of hand. Checks and balances, so to speak."

Miranda sat up a little straighter in her chair, and Shepard knew her words were putting the woman on the defensive. "The Illusive Man may not be a saint, but he would also be the first to admit it. Though you might find it hard to believe, his goal has always been to serve humanity and help secure our place in the galaxy. I know for a fact that we could not have a better advocate."

Shepard listened to the conviction of the statement with a straight face, feeling a small twinge of guilt within her stomach. She had played Miranda, if only in a minor way. It had worked, and she now had a strong suspicion that Miranda's loyalty was more for the Illusive Man himself than the entirety of Cerberus. "What's his name then, if you're so close?"

The words weren't said in a cruel way, merely in a tone brimming with genuine curiosity. Shepard hadn't meant to hurt her, but somehow the question still stung. She didn't know. She had never known, and she likely never would. Miranda cleared her throat. "I do believe we're getting a bit off track. I was under the impression we were working to make you feel more comfortable in sorting through your emotions."

Shepard's lips quirked up in amusement at Miranda's poorly disguised evasion. "Of course. My apologies," she offered with a slight nod.

It was funny; suddenly a million questions were swirling through Miranda's mind. The more Shepard gave away, the more intrigued she seemed to grow. She bit her tongue however, knowing she was still on duty. Every minute she was on the Normandy, Miranda was expected to be working diligently. There was only one answer the Illusive Man would expect her to be working to retrieve at this point. Feeling surprisingly annoyed at the knowledge, Miranda let a hint of frustration creep into her tone. "There needs to be trust between everyone involved to operate efficiently during this mission. What do you need to see before Cerberus holds your allegiance?"

Shepard's brow furrowed for a moment, and then she was smiling. It wasn't one of her honest grins filled with playful energy that Miranda was slowly growing accustomed to seeing, but instead a knowing smirk. "Oh, Miss Lawson, cheating again. I'm only answering questions that come from you."

Shaking her head, Miranda glanced over at her terminal. "Clearly we're not going to be getting very far tonight." She rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "We'll be heading back onto Omega first thing tomorrow. You need to be well rested, I think it's best you head upstairs now."

Shepard laughed. The words were said as a suggestion, though the authority in Miranda's voice was hard to miss. She may be the commanding officer aboard the new Normandy, but it was clear who was really pulling the strings, if not in title or rank then certainly in attitude. Shepard found that she was surprisingly okay with the revelation.

She stood and Miranda watched her with a penetrating gaze. "Don't forget what I said before."

"I know, I know." Shepard shrugged, feeling embarrassed again. "Long sleeves, short nails." Miranda offered a hesitant smile, appreciative of Shepard's cooperation. "Do you uh," Shepard's eyes fell to the floor, "do you think we could try this again?" Miranda's eyebrows rose slightly and when Shepard glanced up and took notice she quickly backpedaled. "I mean, if you want to. Oh, er, if it's not too much trouble that is. I don't mean to keep you from your work, I just-"

"If you think it will help, Shepard," Miranda cut in, kindly saving the woman from her own rambling.

Shepard gave her a grateful smile. "Yeah, I really do."

* * *

A/N: ugh, my awkward babies. Next chapter shall be a goofy one! Huzzah, I needed a break from the more serious stuff so I decided to be immature. Whoop. It shall be up sometime tonight as an apology for my silence yesterday.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: As always, thank you for the reviews from the bottom of my heart. This was by far my favorite chapter to make for this story so far, I guess I just love the lighthearted things. :)

* * *

"Shepard," Miranda said with a warning tone as she watched the woman standing over the glass tank with glee etched across her face, "you're not seriously considering purchasing that, are you?"

Shepard looked up, surprise in her eyes. She studied Miranda for a moment, as though trying to work out if her XO was serious or not. Miranda most certainly was. They were on the Citadel, having been summoned by one David Anderson. Miranda had been reluctant to go along with the meeting. She thought it would be a far more productive use of their time to continue building their team rather than sitting through a conference of self serving alien politicians. Eventually, Shepard had convinced her that it could never hurt to have the council on their good side.

Now that they were actually on the Citadel however, Miranda was quickly regretting her agreement. She had made an offhand comment when they had arrived. Miranda had pulled Shepard aside and told her that perhaps it would be a good idea to purchase a personal item or two. Nothing extravagant, but something small to pass the long hours between missions. It would be a good way to relax and forget about the pressures of the mission and her own fragile state of mind for at least some of the time.

Shepard had taken to the idea wholeheartedly, which Miranda had at first taken as a good thing. However, she had quickly started cursing herself for even mentioning the idea. Suddenly they were on an all day shopping spree, feeding fish to Krogans, saving Quarians, and shoving a racist Volus about.

It was supposed to have been an in and out affair, and it didn't help that Shepard had brought Garrus along. Shepard had been ecstatic when Archangel's identity had been revealed hardly a day earlier. Miranda was pleased the Turian seemed to improve Shepard's outlook so much, but it was getting rather annoying trailing behind the two of them like a third wheel while they cracked jokes like siblings.

Shepard swallowed, clearly reading Miranda's annoyance. "No?" she tried, uncertain what response would keep her out of trouble.

"Good." Miranda jerked her head towards the store exit. "Come on, we have work to do. Let's meet the councilor as quickly as possible so we can continue on to the next dossier."

With a heavy sigh Shepard stepped away from the display, trailing behind Miranda out the door, Garrus in her wake. Her old friend offered her a skeptical look, surprised she had given in so easily, and she gave him a wink in return. When Shepard had her eye on something, she was going to get it. Garrus knew there would be a new addition to the team indeed, if not in the way Miranda was hoping.

* * *

"Do you have a minute, Miranda?"

Miranda glanced up from her desk at where Shepard stood in her doorway, leaning against the opening with a sheepish expression etched across her features. It had not even been half an hour since they had returned to the ship. They were still docked at the Citadel; she couldn't even fathom what had gone wrong in so short a time. Suspicious, Miranda offered a curt nod. "Perhaps," she replied cautiously. "It depends on what you need."

Shepard laughed nervously. "I assure you, it is of the upmost importance."

* * *

"I told you, Shepard," Miranda griped as she got on her hands and knees to take a more involved look under the sofa in the captain's cabin. "A warship is no place for pets." There was a muffled sound from under the desk where Shepard was currently searching, and Miranda rolled her eyes in response. "I can't hear you, Shepard."

The woman moved to get up, but rose too early and slammed her head on the bottom of the furniture. She cried out in pain, and Miranda found she could not help but snicker. It served Shepard right for going against her orders like that; sometimes there really was justice in the universe. Shepard recovered a bit and sat crossed legged on the floor, rubbing the top of her head with a soothing hand. "I said that you told me to find things that I would consider soothing. And I'm not the one who installed the giant fish tank."

Miranda straightened up, having had no luck on her search. "Fish can't escape," she reminded in a cold voice. "And I meant things that would take your mind off your dreams. Things that can capture your attention and focus, like books or films or models or-"

Shepard tilted her head, interest peaked. "Models?"

"Yes," Miranda sighed out, running a hand through her now rather unkempt hair. "Things that don't bite or defecate under the furniture."

Shepard looked almost offended at the idea. "Chubbs would never be so vulgar; he is a hamster of great intellect."

Miranda was about to respond when EDI's voice filled the cabin. "Commander, Mordin would like to inform you that he has just witnessed a rodent in the tech lab."

Shepard shot Miranda a smug grin. "See? He's doing science things."

Miranda groaned.

* * *

Shepard had departed later that day, just before they were scheduled to take off. She came back laden with boxes, and Miranda found herself hoping that model building was not too expensive of a hobby as she took in the large load.

Joker was just setting them off along their way to Purgatory when EDI's voice penetrated the silence as Miranda worked in her cabin. "The commander would like to open a communication, Operative Lawson."

Miranda glanced up, confused. Shepard had proven she was more inclined to visit someone in person rather than speak over the intercom systems about the ship. It didn't bother Miranda either way; she just hoped this didn't mean something was amiss. "Thank you, EDI. Let her through."

"Miranda?" Shepard's voice sounded normal, thankfully. She didn't seem distressed at all. Maybe a little uncomfortable, yes, but hardly the tone of somebody caught in the throes of emotional turmoil.

"What do you need, Shepard?" she responded evenly, leaning back in her chair as she waited in genuine interest for a reply.

"Nothing, it's just," she trailed off, her insecurity filling Miranda's cabin.

"What?" Miranda crossed her arms, curiosity beyond peaked at this point.

"Models are hard."

Miranda rolled her eyes, chastising herself for spending one moment thinking the interruption could have been anything other than Shepard acting like a child. "Are you kidding me?"

* * *

"Wouldn't you rather have Garrus up here?" Miranda asked idly as she pried the two pieces in her hands apart with careful fingers. Apparently Shepard had gotten frustrated and jammed the thrusters of the fake ship into the cockpit in a fit of poorly contained rage.

Shepard shrugged from where she sat at the desk beside her XO, looking on with interest. "His big man talons don't have the necessary finesse." She laughed as Miranda tapped the pieces on the desk top to try and make them easier to dislodge. "This is delicate work, after all."

"Mmm," Miranda hummed in agreement as the structure finally came loose at her primitive approach. She glanced around at the dozens of miniscule parts scattered over the surface before them. "You do realize this was just a suggestion, right? I didn't mean you had to exhaust our funds on every type of model as soon as possible."

Shepard gave a tired sigh, cupping her chin with the palm of her hand in a show of mock remorse. "In my defense it seemed like a fantastic idea at the time."

"Perhaps you could have found something that was actually feasible for you," Miranda offered slyly as she scanned the pieces on the table.

Shepard let out a loud laugh, pleasantly surprised at the almost playful tone of Miranda's voice. "Are you implying my building skills are below par?"

With a raised eyebrow Miranda held up another couple of pieces Shepard had gotten her hands on, a right wing shoved through a cargo bay. She considered the structure in her hands for a moment and offered a wry smile. "Not in the slightest."

"Well," Shepard said with a pleased grin. "You'll have to show me how it's done then."

Miranda looked surprised, though she didn't comment on the statement. Instead she turned her attention back to the mess in front of them, hands quickly sorting through the pieces in front of her. They worked in near silence for quite some time as their ship carried them closer and closer to their next destination. Shepard proved more competent at the task than Miranda had originally pegged her as, though she was far better suited for the task. The problem Shepard most faced was being unable to find anything, refusing as she did to do any organizing.

It became almost a source of pride for Miranda, as they worked on the shared task. Watching Shepard work, function like a proper human, it made her sit a bit straighter. Of course she had these thoughts when she watched the woman at work on the battlefield, but that was hardly the time to truly consider them. Now, there were no bullets to get in the way. There was just Shepard, sitting, breathing, muscles working and mind whizzing as she worked on the delicate project before her. It was such a far cry from the disgusting slab of meat and tendons Miranda had been handed two years ago, it was beautiful, and she was the cause of it.

"I had the dream last night, but it was different." Shepard had said the words so quickly that when they cut through the silence Miranda dropped the small observation window in her hand onto the desk, startled.

She swallowed, regaining her composure as she picked up the piece again. "Different how?"

Shepard kept her focus on the model, never even glancing at the woman next to her as she spoke. "Not a lot, just some changing," she hesitated, "variables. I thought maybe you could," Shepard paused again. "I dunno, help me figure out what it means."

Miranda scoffed, though it wasn't a genuine sound. "I would have to know the original dream to be of any use, I'm afraid."

Shepard ducked her head. "I know." She was quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room the slow and constant squeak of Chubbs running in his wheel behind them. "It's not really a dream. There are no messages or hidden regrets. It's just what happened." Shepard shook her head. "It's what happened over and over and over again."

Miranda contemplated that for a moment, trying to work out the best course of action. Shepard needed to deal with the trauma if she intended to move on from it. "Tell me about it," she said, though she had watched the footage of the attack a thousand times over. The retelling was for Shepard's sake, not for hers.

"Well, I'm on the Normandy, and her alarms start going crazy. I'm suiting up, just in case the worst happens." Shepard paused, letting out a bitter chuckle. "Lot of good that did, huh?" Miranda said nothing, so she continued, successfully fitting the miniature hull together as she spoke. "Liara's there, trying to convince me to get to the escape pods. I go after Joker though."

Miranda fiddled with the portside wing in her hands, trying to appear nonchalant. "Do you think about her often?"

Shepard stiffened for a moment, and it took a heavy sigh before she relaxed. "I dunno. We've been going nonstop since I woke up, there hasn't been a lot of time to sit down and ponder life." Miranda hummed in amusement as she listened. "I talked to Garrus about her, but he didn't seem to know much of anything. I guess everyone did just go their separate ways once I was out of the picture."

A feeling of guilt washed over Miranda. She had had contact with the Asari, could easily go behind the Illusive Man's back and track her down if she felt so inclined. Still, she followed orders and bit her tongue. Shepard would be reunited with Liara when the head of Cerberus deemed it was appropriate. Whether Miranda agreed with it or not, that was the way things were. "Does that bother you?"

Shepard's fingers paused in their work as she seriously contemplated the question. "Maybe. Everyone might not have been the best of friends, but the things we did together," she trailed off, lost in the emotions of the past. "We were family. I never felt so connected with a squad before; the Normandy became a home with all of us there. I guess I had just hoped that even with me out of the picture, those bonds would hold true. They knew the Reapers were still coming, they should have stayed committed to the cause, _our _cause, in my honor, just as I would have done for them." Shepard shook her head. "Maybe I was just fooling myself, maybe they didn't feel the same." She looked crestfallen for a moment before she took a deep breath and turned her head towards Miranda, a playfully smug grin across her lips. "I won't pretend it isn't a bit of an ego boost though, knowing the show couldn't possibly go on without me."

Miranda surprised herself by actually laughing at that. "No, I suppose that's why I was called in."

Shepard chuckled as she fit the final piece into place, looking down at the fruits of her labor with a smile. They had split the work, Shepard taking care of the front end of the model cruiser while Miranda focused on the back. "Take a look at that." She waved her half in front of Miranda's face. Miranda glanced down at her own unfinished side; she had been listening so intently she had fallen way behind. Shepard laughed at the sight. "All talk I see."

Miranda rolled her eyes, getting back to it with renewed vigor. No way was she about to be outdone. Shepard watched on in amusement as she tried to finish as quickly as possible, something that Miranda found rather unnerving. She felt odd with Shepard sitting so closely beside her, offering undivided attention. Clearing her throat, Miranda brought them back to the topic at hand. "So, what are the differences?"

Shepard leaned lazily on the desk, mind wandering as she watched Miranda's fingers nimbly maneuvering the pieces before her. "Differences?"

"In the dreams," Miranda reminded, glancing up from her project to find Shepard's gaze met hers instantly. She swallowed, unnerved by the sudden wave of heat that seemed to descend upon the room, and quickly looked away.

Hesitating for a moment, Shepard gave a noncommittal shrug. "Yeah, I dunno, it seems stupid now." She let out an awkward sounding laugh, cheeks tinged pink. "It probably doesn't mean anything at all."

"Well," Miranda let out in a heavy breath, frustrated with the woman's continued reservations, "I can't force you to tell me." She snapped the last piece into place, and extended it towards Shepard confidently. "There you are."

Shepard took it and gently started to fit it together with her own section. "Thanks," she said genuinely as she molded all of the pieces into one another securely. "For this, and for letting it go." She glanced at Miranda for a moment. "Maybe if it happens again tonight," she trailed off, and refocused on her work. Finally, it all snapped together. Triumphant, she held it up for Miranda to get a decent look. "There we go, the perfect fit."

Miranda raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the packaging, noticing the age limit for the first time. "Nice to know we're as competent as sixteen year olds."

Shepard looked offended. "Excuse me, it says sixteen _and up_. We are up, my friend."

Miranda paused at the word friend. The rational part of her mind knew it was merely a figure of speech; Shepard was just being her usual overly friendly self. That didn't stop it from sounding almost pleasant though. Shaking her head, Miranda stood and stretched. "We certainly are. Just try to relax for the rest of the time, Shepard, we don't know what we're going to find when we reach Purgatory."

"Yes, mom," Shepard deadpanned, grinning as the comment earned a scoff. Miranda left for the elevator, leaving Shepard to her own thoughts as she waited for word from Joker saying they had arrived.

A ship full of prisoners, it certainly sounded like quite an adventure.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sweet babies you guys are so nice! Seriously, thank you so much. Game dialogue alert. I know, more like poopy lazy author alert. Shouldn't happen too often though.

* * *

"Hi," Shepard offered rather quietly as she stepped into the cabin. She stood further away from the desk than she usually did. Miranda tilted her head up in acknowledgement of her presence, though she said nothing. Shepard grimaced at the pointed silence, she knew she had made the right decision earlier that day on the prison ship, but it was a hollow reassurance when being face with Miranda's clear anger firsthand.

Miranda kept her eyes focused on the work before her. She had already gotten reprimanded by the Illusive Man; she really wasn't in the mood to entertain a visitor. Shepard was being cautious with her, that much Miranda could tell, but she looked far from intimidated. "Are you mad at me for telling Jack she could have access?"

Miranda shot her a withering look over her terminal as Shepard had a moment of boldness surge through her and took a seat in her usual chair. She was irritated, this was no time for childish games. And yet, she found herself responding. "Yes." Miranda paused a moment before she decided to fully commit to playing along. At least it was an easy way to take a few shots at Shepard and take the woman down a couple of pegs. "Do you make a habit of disregarding the authority of everyone you work with or am I just lucky?"

Shepard chuckled, clearly more excited that Miranda was humoring her than troubled by the sharp nature of her tone. "You seem to bring out the worst in me, I'm afraid." She continued, ignoring the annoyed scoff Miranda let out in return. "Am I in trouble professionally or personally?"

Miranda sized her up for a moment. She certainly had not been expecting that in any way, shape, or form. Honestly, she had been waiting for one of Shepard's awkward, stuttering apologies. Suddenly, the conversation had gotten much more interesting. "Both." Miranda's expression was hard, but there was an almost playful light in her eyes that soothed any doubts Shepard might have had on where they stood.

"Good," she said happily and stood. There was a lot to get done, and she was still in her armor. It really hadn't been the time for conversation, but she was not fond of the thought of leaving Miranda alone in her cabin to stew for a couple of hours. Better to patch up the wound while it was still fresh. Shepard didn't make it out the door before she was called back to turn around.

"Shepard," Miranda had found herself calling out suddenly. "What was it like?" It had been bothering her for ages, pretty much since Shepard had returned. The age old questions of the universe. What waited after death? Was there an afterlife, a god? Were none of the millions of religions correct? Were all of them? Questions that could never be answered, until Shepard. "What happens, after death?"

Shepard seemed taken aback for a moment, and then smiled shyly. She remembered the cold and the darkness the most, the air leaving her lungs and the sense of being nothing but alone, death in the infinite void. And then there was light. The kind that had created the Earth in the tales of old that people like Ashley clung too no matter how much time passed. It was blinding, mind shattering. Light, and then a face. A beautiful face that she had wanted so badly to reach, but a steady hand restrained her own, reassuring her with gentle words. She had died, and then there was Miranda.

**_"Shepard, don't try to move. Just lie still, try to stay calm." _**

"Honestly, Miss Lawson," she responded with an apologetic grin, "I hardly remember a thing."

Miranda nodded, she really had not expected much else.

* * *

Time seemed to pass quickly after that. Shepard secured Jack's presence on the ship with a finesse that Miranda found greatly surprising. Though she personally kept her distance from the convict, it appeared as though the two women had struck up an odd form of something that could almost be considered friendship. Jack made it clear that no one on the ship would ever hold her complete trust, but she showed a certain tolerance for Shepard's frequent visits, one that hardly fit her psychological profile. It didn't matter, Miranda reminded herself, so long as Jack cooperated and got that job done.

They travelled off to hunt down the warlord next, and though things didn't quite turn out as planned, they winded up with a Krogan of their very own nonetheless. Miranda had made her reservations about releasing the unknown specimen heard, but Shepard outright ignored her as usual when it came to mission work. It was more than a little irritating, especially since she was still feeling a little sour about the incident on Purgatory, but at least she got the satisfaction of watching Shepard limp stiffly out of the elevator after her first talk with Grunt had obviously gotten away from her.

In the end, any animosity from their little disagreements quickly faded with the amount of work they took on. Between the missions sent along from the Illusive Man and Shepard's penchant for helping every small child find their lost puppy, there was hardly time for holding grudges. Luckily, the distractions seemed to have a few convenient benefits. With all the new faces on board, Shepard appeared to be in her element. She conversed with her squad mates as often as she could, getting to know everyone on a personal level. It seemed to brighten her outlook considerably, and Miranda was pleased to note that the stronger connection Shepard formed with the ragtag group, the less she seemed to focus on Cerberus and any negative feelings she had for them. It was becoming _her _team now. _Her _mission.

Miranda also found their personal conversations were more relaxed. Shepard still clearly suffered from memories of the event, but she seemed to be getting more in control of her reactions. Once when they were planetside some young merc had tossed a grenade in Shepard's direction, and though she made it to cover, the resulting explosion seemed to spark something in her mind. She got that far off look in her eyes, and Miranda was at her side in an instant, waiting for the inevitable meltdown. Nothing came though, at her touch the commander was able to focus on her XO's presence and shake the feeling off. She had given Miranda a grateful smile before leaping the barrier and charging back into the fray. It was comforting to Miranda. Perhaps Shepard would never be back to the exact woman she had been before her passing, but maybe she was healing just enough to get the job done after all.

It was then, in the midst of the days growing easier that trouble struck, just as Miranda found it always did. The Collectors were striking again, and of course they raced off to meet them head on, winding up fighting their way through the colony on Horizon for all they were worth. Some were saved, but Miranda knew Shepard too well by this point. Everyone taken before they arrived would be a weight she carried on her shoulders.

The Collectors had made their retreat, and now Miranda stood behind her squad mates, arms crossed, growing more irritated by the second.

"Do something," the frantic colonist yelled at them as he watched the alien vessel disappear from view.

Shepard's body was stiff, her voice carrying half the influence it usually did. "I didn't want it to end this way. I did what I could."

Grunt stood beside her, and nodded his head. "It was a good fight, Shepard."

Miranda was surprised by the words, at how they sounded almost reassuring. It was the closest thing to kindness she had ever witnessed from a Krogan before. Her musings were interrupted as they were joined by yet another stranger, a presence that seemed to excite Shepard. It only took a moment for Miranda to place her.

"Ashley," Shepard stepped forward, relieved her old friend had managed to escape the abductions.

The woman seemed to regard Shepard for a moment, and then reached out a hand, "I thought you were dead, Commander, we all did."

Shepard, who had been shaking her hand enthusiastically, paused and let her grip fall, confused at the bitterness in Ashley's voice. "You don't sound too happy to see me. Something bothering you, Ash?"

"Yeah, something's bothering me." She scoffed. "I spent the past two years believing you were dead. I would have followed you anywhere, Commander. I thought you were gone. You were more than our commander, why didn't you try to contact me? Why didn't you let me know you were alive?"

Miranda felt a surge of protectiveness sweep through her, that was _completely _unfair. Blinking, she quickly shook the feeling off. It was one thing to be concerned when something directly affected the mission, but beyond something causing Shepard to be unable to function, the woman's feelings were none of her concern.

Shepard shifted from leg to leg looking uncomfortable. "Not really my choice," she said jokingly, hoping to ease the tense atmosphere that had so suddenly settled around them. When Ashley didn't flinch she continued. "I spent the last two years in some sort of coma while Cerberus rebuilt me."

Ashley took a step back. "You're with Cerberus now? I can't believe the reports were right. Alliance Intel said Cerberus could be behind our missing colonies. We got a tip that this one could be the next to get hit." It took effort for Miranda not to roll her eyes, now _that _she had been expecting. "I went to Anderson but he wouldn't talk. There were rumors that you weren't dead, worse, that you were working for the enemy."

The hurt on Shepard's face was clear, she couldn't hide it. Swallowing hard, she tried to defend herself, though the words did not come out as convincingly as she had hoped. "Cerberus and I want the same things, to save our colonies. That doesn't mean I answer to them."

"Do you really believe that?" Ashley stepped closer. "Or is that just what Cerberus wants you to think?"

The words clearly hit home with Shepard, her mistrust with the organization was far from secret and though those feelings seemed to have been falling by the wayside of late, suddenly they were being violently dragged back out into the limelight. Miranda's hand strayed to the pistol at her hip, hovering over the weapon in anticipation.

She was suddenly hit with the realization that she was very much alone. If Shepard wanted to, she could order Ashley and Grunt to turn on her. It was not as though the krogan had any allegiance towards Cerberus. Jacob had been getting frustratingly close with Shepard of late and the rest of the crew had begun warming up considerably towards her as well. Would they put up a fight if their commander pulled a little mutiny? She could very easily be left to rot on Horizon while watching the taillights of a commandeered Normandy disappear into the skyline.

"I wanted to believe you were alive," Ashley continued, not giving Shepard the chance to respond. "I just never expected anything like this. You've turned your back on everything we've stood for."

Miranda was certain her heart wasn't beating as she waited for Shepard's next move. If the commander had loyalties, now would be the moment they surfaced. Her muscles tensed as she watched, eyes flickering over the scene frantically. There would either be words next, or a heck of a lot of gunfire. The seconds Shepard paused before answering felt like minutes, and Miranda felt her fingers twitch involuntarily in expectation as she calculated the probability of escaping the potential encounter with her life. She was nervous, yes, but that in itself felt strange. Surely Shepard wouldn't harm her, that wasn't the way she operated. And yet, Miranda knew it would be the most logical course of action for Shepard to take if she intended to break free of the hold Cerberus had on her.

**_"Undoubtedly,"_** she had said.

"You saw it yourself," Shepard tried, failing at keeping the frustration from her voice, "the Collectors are targeting human colonies, and they're working with the Reapers."

"I'd like to believe you, Shepard, but I don't trust Cerberus. It worries me that you do. What did they do to you? What if they're behind it? What if they're the ones working with the Collectors?

Shepard shook her head sadly as she felt the weight of Ashley's words weigh heavily on her mind. There was nothing she could say, she knew that now. Ashley felt betrayed, abandoned. Whether Shepard was truly doing wrong or not, that didn't matter anymore. There was no real comfort she could offer her friend, but she had to try, for both of their sakes. "You're letting the way you feel about their history get in the way of the facts," she said as gently as she could, keeping any accusation out of her tone.

Miranda relaxed at the statement, she had nothing to fear here.

"Or maybe you feel like you owe Cerberus because they saved you," Ashley shot a mistrustful glance in Miranda's direction as she spoke. "Maybe it's you. It doesn't matter; I still know where my loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier, it's in my blood. I'm reporting back to the Citadel, we'll let them decide if they believe your story."

She turned to depart, and Shepard took a quick couple of paces forward, panic in her eyes. "Wait, please. I could use someone like you in my crew, Ash. Someone I trust." The plea in her voice was palpable. "It will be just like old times, huh?"

"No, it won't." Ashley glanced back at her. "I'm no fan of aliens but Cerberus has a history of being extremists. I'll never work for a group like that. See you, Commander." She seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then nodded, "Good luck."

They watched her depart in silence, and when she was gone both of her squad mates turned towards Shepard, looking for direction. Miranda noticed that Grunt appeared bored with the whole situation, as though they were merely wasting his time once all of the shooting was over. Shepard looked tired, as though all the energy from her body had been drained from a single conversation. She refused to look at either of her team while she opened up the connection link to the Normandy.

Joker, send the shuttle to pick us up. I've had enough of this colony."

* * *

Miranda knew what had to be running through Shepard's mind as they each took a seat in the shuttle. The Council, Tali, and now Ashley, even Garrus had questioned her, though he did agree to come along. Shepard was being denied and scrutinized by good friends at every turn. It was clearly becoming a more taxing affair with every incident. They were wounding Shepard, deeply, with every rejection.

It was a rather unintelligent thing to bring up, particularly in that moment, but Miranda found her curiosity was overwhelming her. Uncharacteristically, she decided to throw caution to the wind, and spoke her mind. "You didn't run." It was a statement, but the tone of her voice made the question clear.

Shepard was silent for a moment while the shuttle rattled about as it ascended swiftly towards the Normandy. Grunt side eyed them from where he sat, though his interest was clearly limited. Finally she responded, though she didn't look at Miranda as she spoke. "I'm doing good work with good people, that's what's important." Her face twisted up, as though she had tasted something bitter. "The rest is politics."

Miranda knew the words were a lie, that Shepard had conflicting principles that certainly went against the operations of Cerberus. Still, there was a measure of comfort to be found in the lie because there was also a resounding truth. Shepard was fully dedicated to the cause now, she would never abandon it. She _could _never. Saving whoever she could, sacrificing herself for the greater good, those were the things Shepard stood for. If she needed Cerberus at her back to make those ideals a reality, then so be it.

* * *

The door opened, and it was a few moments before Shepard made it fully into the room, moving at the sluggish pace she was. Miranda glanced up from her terminal, surprised. It was very rare for her commander to visit her so late, especially after a mission as emotionally draining as the one she had just gone through.

"Commander, what can I do for you?"

Shepard refused to meet her gaze, instead opting to let her eyes trail along the floor of the cabin. She moved forward and sighed out heavily in response, "Nothing." When she reached the edge of the desk she turned until her back was against it, and slid down until she was seated on the floor, legs gathered up to her chest. Shepard let her forehead fall to rest on her knees, eyes pulling shut with exhaustion.

Miranda, who had watched the display in silence, scooted forward in her chair to peer around the desk at where Shepard sat huddled up. "Shepard," She tried, only to be immediately shushed. Miranda raised an eyebrow at that. In all of her years, nobody had ever had the gall to 'shush' Miranda Lawson before. Despite the action, Miranda could not help the surge of sympathy that threatened to overwhelm her.

When that faded a bit, only an intense awkwardness was left over. Shepard was curled up, clearly none too eager to speak. What was she supposed to do? What did the woman expect from her, condolence? Reassurance? Clearly not, surely she would need to be permitted to speak for such things. Miranda practically squirmed in her seat, oh how she detested moments such as this. They made her feel weak, useless. Incompetence was not a feeling Miranda was used to experiencing, and it certainly was not one she enjoyed. Not knowing what else to do, eventually she merely moved back in front of her terminal, continuing to type diligently.

As she worked, she was expecting Shepard to say something. To vocalize what she needed or what she desired. Miranda came to realize she had never just _been _with somebody before. There was purpose in meetings, whether they be professional or personal. There was a goal, an end. This? This was just existing, side by side.

It wasn't until over half an hour had passed before Shepard finally spoke. Her voice was muffled, as she did not lift her head, but that could not keep Miranda from hearing every word perfectly. "Why do I keep getting yelled at for being alive?"

Miranda found she desperately wished she had the answer.

* * *

A/N: Can I just say… I reread this chapter and I was like, something's not clicking, it doesn't have the right flow… It's FREAKING Ashley. I like her character a lot but her game dialogue in this part is _crazy. _I took it down word for word and it still felt so disjointed. SHE'S BEING SO UGH. YOU RUIN THE CHAPTER FOOL. Oh well *sigh* Just goes to show how much is lost when you lose the subtle inflections of the voice actors. Man those people are good at what they do.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in a few days. I was able to put this chapter up because it's basically been done for awhile now, but I don't know when I'll be able to write more. I will try tomorrow, but no promises. I don't have what you'd call confidence, and my folks have been kinda down on me about the whole writing thing. It's left me feeling rather incompetent. I'll try not to, but if I disappear for awhile that's why. Sorry, I don't want to jerk you guys around, I know how frustrating it can be to be a reader on this site. I will try, I just know myself really well so don't get your hopes up, I lost my groove for sure and I've been pretty bummed out lately. Ah well, it will pass. Thanks for the continued support.

* * *

It was weird, that was the only word for it. She had quite an extensive vocabulary, and that was the only remark that Miranda could come up with. Shepard had sat silently on her floor until she had been done reporting on the day's events. Miranda had sat still for awhile after she had finished, and hesitated because the next step was sleep. That was her plan, her routine, but then there was Shepard. She didn't know what she was supposed to do, what she was expected to say. Reluctantly she powered down her terminal, somehow knowing it would break whatever it was that was going on.

Shepard understood immediately what the motion meant, and she slowly rose to her feet. Even then, even after sitting in the cabin for nearly an hour, Miranda found Shepard still couldn't meet her eyes. She stood as well, staying behind her desk, shifting awkwardly on the balls of her feet. A slow smile spread across Shepard's face as she moved towards the exit.

"Have a good night, Miss Lawson."

Awkward. Strange. Uncomfortable. Weird.

Just plain weird.

* * *

Miranda shook her head as she trailed behind Garrus and Shepard off of the Normandy. There were hundreds of planets littered throughout the galaxy teeming with life and yet not one, but two potential recruits were lurking about on Illium, the very same planet Dr. T'Soni had claimed as home. Sometimes the universe felt very small indeed.

* * *

Shepard hesitated outside of the office door, looking a little lost. Miranda could take a guess at what was running through the woman's mind, and again there was that gnawing feeling of guilt she seemed to get whenever Liara was mentioned. She was tempted to reassure Shepard, to let her know that this reunion would not go like the rest, to reveal that it was in fact Liara herself who had begged for Shepard to be revived. Miranda had made a promise to the Asari years ago however, and she always kept her word. This particular revelation was off limits, it wasn't hers to expose.

Garrus seemed to have picked up on the indecision as well, and he gave Shepard a playful push on the back to send her a step closer to the door. "Oh go on, this isn't Ashley. This is Liara." Shepard turned her head back to give him a pleading look but he waved her forward dismissively. "We'll be waiting out here for you to come back with the information."

Shepard glanced over towards Miranda who gave a curt nod. With a deep breath, Shepard opened the doors, stepping through into the office at a tentative pace. The doors closed behind her, and then there was silence. Miranda moved to lean against the wall as Garrus shuffled impatiently from leg to leg in front of the secretary's desk. The Asari paid them little mind, but even still Miranda felt a tad out of place. She had been getting along with Garrus decently thus far, which was refreshing, but they were far from engaging in the pleasantries of small talk with one another.

Time passed slowly, at a near crawl. A few times Garrus looked as though he was going to speak, but then he would shift his eyes to the floor and shuffle about some more. Though she was grateful for the interruption of their awkward silence, there was a nervous feeling fluttering around Miranda's stomach as the door opened not fifteen minutes after Shepard had first left them. It was far too soon for any truly beneficial conversations for Shepard to have happened. Their commander returned with a solemn expression, ignoring the quizzical gaze Garrus shot in her direction.

"Both the Justicar and the assassin are still here, we'll have to move quickly to catch them though. Come on." She breezed past them down the stairs, and they followed without question.

* * *

Samara had been recruited successfully, and they had been able to escort her back to the Normandy immediately. Now Shepard and Miranda waited just outside the ship for Garrus to return with Jack. They had met more resistance than expected while hunting down the Justicar, and Shepard thought an extra member on the team wouldn't hurt, all things considered. They were all weary, but there was no time to rest lest their assassin take off without them. Shepard had asked Garrus and Miranda to return to the Normandy and send out Jacob and Grunt as replacements but they had refused, assuring Shepard that if she wouldn't be resting, they most certainly wouldn't be.

Miranda racked her brain in the silence that had fallen between her and Shepard as they waited for their companions. Shepard had been quiet since meeting with Liara, an obvious indication that things had not gone the way she had expected them too. She didn't appear as crushed as she had after being reunited with Ashley, more simply disappointed. She certainly didn't seem like a woman who had just had her heart broken, so Miranda doubted rejection had been the cause of her somber attitude. More likely it was Liara being unable to join them and Shepard wasn't taking it well.

It surprised her, how sorry Miranda felt. She wanted to offer some form of comfort, even if it were small. "Are you doing," she hesitated, losing confidence as she reminded herself friendly reassurances were never really her thing, "well?"

Shepard chuckled at the question, leaning back against the wall as she crossed her arms. "I'm not going to have a mental breakdown if that's what you're asking. I'll get the job done."

Miranda wanted to kick herself, she wished she weren't so bad at this. "No, that's not what I meant," she tried, suddenly feeling rather hot and uncomfortable. "I just-"

With a wide grin, Shepard placed a gentle hand on Miranda's forearm. "I know what you meant, and thank you but it's fine." A heat swam through Miranda at the simple gesture, but she quickly dismissed it as mere embarrassment. Shepard let her arm fall to her side. "Everything is always fine." She was smiling, but her voice was tired and heavy. Miranda found she wanted to push further, but Garrus was back, Jack at his heels.

"Okay," Their commander stood up straight, her usual imposing presence returning. "Let's find us an assassin."

* * *

As it turned out, Seryna, the asari Liara had guided them towards, would be able to take them to the base of the tower Thane would be attacking in just over an hour. With time to kill, Shepard lead them to the bar near Liara's office, and Jack immediately went for a drink. Miranda made to protest, but Shepard shut her down, claiming one drink wouldn't condemn the entire mission to failure.

"Just one," she called out to Jack's retreating figure. "I need you to be sharp."

Jack waved back at her dismissively and they moved to find a table in the crowded room. It took a few moments, but they managed to discover a relatively quiet corner to wait out the time.

"So, about before with the good doctor," Garrus said slyly nudging Shepard playfully in the arm with his elbow.

Shepard's eyes flickered across the table to Miranda briefly. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Right, of course." He leaned in closely, whispering conspiratorially, "Help me out here though. Give me something."

Shepard tried to look annoyed, but failed miserably. She knew Garrus was trying to make her feel more at ease with the whole situation; it wasn't something she could ever truly be mad about. "Something?"

"Yeah." He chuckled. "Good? Bad?"

Shepard shook her head, running a hand through her hair tiredly before letting out a heavy sigh. "Different," she settled for at length. "Very, very, different."

Garrus looked intrigued, but said nothing more. The finality of Shepard's tone made it clear she would not tolerate any prying for much longer. Miranda watched the scene unfold silently, envious of how easily the pair read each other. Garrus knew when to meddle, and more importantly, when to stop. He was completely comfortable with Shepard, and the strength of the bond they had formed only reinforced that.

Jack was back then, drink in hand, and the conversation quickly switched gears. Shepard and Garrus were the ones who did most of the talking. Jack would burst in every once in awhile with some crude opinion or another, but Miranda remained silent. The time seemed pass slowly, and she found her mind wandering as they waited for Seryna to send word.

* * *

It happened at the worst possible time, just as they were crossing the gap between the two buildings. It was doubtful whether any of them were still bothering to keep track of how many stories up they had travelled at that point, but it didn't take much to know they were simply high, dangerously so. They were on a bridge, a narrow expanse with no railings under a hail of gunfire and at the mercy of many erratic bursts of wind. When one is going to have a mental breakdown, that probably wouldn't be the place they picked. And yet, as soon as Garrus' bullet hit the container of fuel, igniting it and sparking the fiery explosion that soon followed, Shepard hit the floor like a ton of bricks in plain view of their enemies.

There was no way her squad could have known what happened, the circumstances had been just right. The explosion, the sound it created, the heat, the way the wind had been pushing against her fiercely, all these factors twirled into a wild storm around Shepard and suddenly her eyes were closed and she was being sucked out into the endless isolation of open space with nothing to hold onto, burning up among the stars.

Miranda rushed forward as soon as Shepard went down, creating a barrier over herself and their fallen leader. "Keep them off us," she shouted over to Jack through gritted teeth as the biotic shield was relentlessly pounded with bullets. Jack hesitated for a moment, and Miranda promised herself that if she heard one smartass remark now she would be throttling the woman later. Surprisingly, Jack eventually followed Miranda's command without complaint, and set to work gathering attention in the way somebody like her so easily could. They may not be the best of friends, but Miranda had to admit nobody could cause a commotion like Jack could, and the distracting show of biotic power gave her plenty of time to drag Shepard's thrashing body behind cover.

Garrus kept his distance from Jack, and was able to take a few clean headshots on their opponents as they focused their attention on the wild woman. It wasn't long until the mercenaries where a disorganized mess and the turian was able to pick them off one by one from behind cover. Miranda returned to his side to finish the job, and together they cleared the walkway with relative ease.

Both Garrus and Miranda were back at Shepard's side in an instant, and though she kept her distance, Jack kept a concerned eye on the scene.

"What's happening to her?" Garrus cried out as he tried to pin down Shepard's arms to stop her from clawing at the exposed skin of her neck.

"She's just," Miranda responded breathlessly as she lent a hand when the turian was clearly having difficulty, "been triggered by something. I'm not sure. Perhaps being on the bridge?" She glared into the wind that was pummeling them near relentlessly. It would take less time to backtrack then to move forward. "Come on, let's get her back inside."

Garrus looked skeptical. Shepard was jerking around rather violently and the walkway was far from a wide passage, the wind making matters even more difficult. "Is that really safe?"

Miranda looked up at him, brow furrowed. "Is staying here?"

He hesitated a moment, and then nodded his understanding. "I'll try to keep her arms steady, you get her legs."

Miranda glanced up at Jack. "Make sure we have plenty of cover. I want you up front, but not too far ahead."

* * *

The room was empty when they finally made it across, save for the bodies of the enemies they had already taken down. Garrus hauled Shepard over to the wall setting her up against it, and then quickly stepping back to give Miranda space to move in. He had no idea what was going on, he had never seen Shepard like this before. She looked so frail, so unlike the woman he called friend. It felt almost wrong to be watching her, as though he were trespassing, betraying her trust. Jack seemed to be feeling the same as she looked on from beside him, an unreadable expression on her face.

Miranda knelt by Shepard, keeping the woman's hands pinned to her sides. "Hey, look at me." Shepard's eyes remained tightly shut, her face screwed up in an expression of intense pain. "Look at me, Jane."

"I can't-" Shepard's face was pale, her eyes wide an unfocused when she finally opened them. "I can't-"

"Yes you can," Miranda said as gently as she could, though the frustration in her voice was evident. This was the worst possible scenario, and Miranda cursed herself for being so relaxed. Shepard had been improving, and so she had let her guard down. Now the woman was having an episode in the middle of a mission in front of witnesses. The situation was far from ideal. "Just relax, remember where you are. You're on Illium, Shepard. You're safe."

Jack snorted. "If you don't count the hundreds of mercs that keep trying to blow her head off."

Miranda shot her an icy glare, but said nothing. Her focus needed to remain on Shepard. The woman had calmed at Miranda's words, though she was far from combat ready. Miranda chewed on her bottom lip subconsciously as she tried to work out the best course of action. They needed to get Shepard back to the Normandy, that much was clear, but they couldn't risk losing the assassin. She had to keep after him, and she couldn't do it alone.

Miranda wanted to throttle Shepard for her choice in squad. She had enough faith in Garrus to get Shepard back safe, but it was not like she could continue storming the building while trusting Jack to have her back. If the woman didn't turn on her instantly she was sure to challenge her every command at the very least. No, she would need to keep Garrus by her side to be successful, and put her confidence in Jack to take their commander to safety.

There was no easy solution, no clear choice. Miranda would have to suck it up and follow her instincts, all the while praying for the best.

* * *

Thane was a calming presence to have at her back, and she found his outlook refreshing, though clearly his interest in Shepard is was brought him onboard. He seemed as though he would be dedicated to the cause, and someone deserving of trust, though Jacob clearly didn't agree. With Shepard out of commission for the time being, it was up to him and Miranda to get the Drell settled in comfortably and Jacob was hardly subtle about his opinion of their newest teammate. Thane scarcely seemed bothered by it however, and as soon as he was tucked away in the Life Support room at EDI's suggestion, Miranda was off to the Med Bay.

Though she had been expecting it, Miranda's heart dropped at the sight that greeted her when she rounded the corner from the elevator into the mess hall. A large part of the crew was milling about, chattering amongst themselves and clearly hoping for a peek at what was happening with their commander behind closed doors. Chakwas had been respectful enough to close the shutters on the windows, but in the end, Miranda knew it wouldn't matter.

Gossip spread throughout ships like the plague, and people had obviously seen Jack bringing Shepard in. Even if she, Chakwas, and Garrus agreed to keep quiet the rest of the crew was sure to discuss it amongst themselves. Nearly every inch of the ship was being monitored, it was too late. Some small part of Miranda had been hoping she could play it off as a field injury, but it was clear now that that wouldn't work.

With a sigh, she moved towards the small crowd that dispersed incredibly quickly at the sound of her approach. Miranda stepped into the Med Bay, welcomed by the sight of Shepard passed out on one of the beds, sleeping soundly. Chakwas stood at Miranda's arrival, looking concerned. "Did everything go okay? What happened out there? Jack practically dragged her in here without offering too much of an explanation."

Miranda nodded stiffly. "The mission was a success." Her eyes darted back over to Shepard, combing her form intently with a piercing gaze. "Is there a reason Shepard should be staying overnight?"

Chakwas shook her head. "Not at all, physically she's perfectly healthy. I can't really tell you what happened. Jack walked her on board without a problem and they made it all the way to the Mess Hall before Shepard went nuts. I guess Gardner dropped something? Jack really didn't say much, she took off as soon as we got Shepard sedated. I tried to talk her out of it first but I was afraid she might hurt herself if I waited too long." She motioned for Miranda to follow her over to the bed where Shepard lay. The commander was out of her armor now, and sedated as she was Chakwas had little trouble pushing her lightly onto her side so Miranda could get a good view of her neck. "Look at this mess."

There were an abundance of scratches all along Shepard's neck, the skin red and raw, obviously cleaned up by Chakwas at that point but Miranda could tell there had once been blood. "What happened to get her in this state?"

Miranda hesitated for a moment, debating her options. Her impulse was to hide the information, especially when she knew very well there were bugs recording every sound she made in that room. Still, it was far too late for secrets. The cameras would have already picked up Shepard's meltdown in the mess hall. The word was out, Shepard was mentally unsound, and Miranda was sure to be hearing from her employer _very _soon. There was no point in hiding it any longer, and so Miranda told Chakwas everything she knew.

It was out of her hands now, and though Miranda was not sure what was going to happen, she highly doubted it would be anything good.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Oh my gosh you guys are the sweetest. I was referring to the article writing I do for my job, these stories on here are just a silly little stress-relieving hobby, but I can't tell you how much your kind words helped anyway. Thank you guys, really, you don't know how grateful I am. I want to be better for you all, so no more personal whining and moaning about work. Good things from here on out, lot's o' fluff an' stuff. I want to get back to a chapter a day so I'll do my best from here on out to stick to my word.

I'm aware of all the creative liberties I'm taking, which is the fancy term for 'I am super lazy and I am sorry'. Anywho, switching up the cause of Miranda's loyalty mission a bit because it suits me, hope ya don't mind. If ya do…well…lighten up we're having fun :p

* * *

She had stepped into the transmitter in the com room exuding confidence. Her presence had been requested, but the reason remained unspecified. In her heart, Miranda knew what was coming, but she would never let her nervous energy show on her face. She would be calm, self-assured. She wouldn't let herself be intimidated.

The words meant a whole lot less when she was actually facing the man down, feeling the disappointment in his gaze even through the fuzzy transmission. "Miranda." There was a lengthy pause as the Illusive Man took a leisurely drag from the cigarette between his fingers, and Miranda's heart sank in response. A cold feeling of dread washed over her. He was cold, stern, not playing the little games she was used to seeing from him so often. Something was displeasing to him, and she was going to take the fall. "I've been hearing disturbing reports of late."

She swallowed. It was not yet an accusation; there was still time for bravado. "Oh?" Miranda was sure to give off an overwhelming air of disinterest. Her posture practically radiated the point; she had had many years of practice. It was just another tool for her, a turn of the hips and a pull of the shoulders that screamed her time was far too valuable for another to be wasting.

"It would appear that not everything is going as planned. Funny, the things I have heard seem to conflict with your own reports. Of course you would know far better than to skew any data crossing my desk. Still, the facts just do not appear to add up. I can't imagine why that would be." There it was, the accusation.

Miranda bristled slightly, feeling defensive. "Perhaps you need to find more reliable sources of information." She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. They were rude, rebellious even. Miranda had surprised even herself by saying them. Insubordination had never really been her thing.

If he was bothered by the unusual display, the Illusive Man didn't show it. "It seems I do." He idly twirled the shrinking butt between his fingers, and she knew the situation was hopeless. She had been found out, there really was no way to recover. "Tell me," his eyes met hers as he spoke, their cold detachment chilling her even through the projection, "how is our fearless savior?"

It was over, she accepted that fact. Still, Miranda would be damned if she was the one who had to admit it first. If the Illusive Man had a claim to make he was welcome to do it, she would not be bullied into groveling. Briefly, she wondered where this sudden defiance had come from. After a moment, she decided it was undoubtedly Shepard who was to blame. "Shepard's progress has been impressive. All candidates for recruitment have thus far been collected without fail and-"

"Don't play games with me, Lawson." His voice was dark, dangerous. It took every ounce of Miranda's willpower not to visibly recoil. "Whatever is going on with the asset, fix it, immediately. One more mishap and I think you'll find there will be major changes in your little project." Miranda's breath hitched. "And if things don't turn out as expected I can assure you that you won't be the only one facing the repercussions. Never forget that, Miranda."

A flash of protectiveness surged through Miranda. To bring Oriana into the discussion, even indirectly, was hitting way too far below the belt for her tastes. She felt her body trembling, though it was out of barely contained ire rather than fear.

"Do I make my meaning clear, Operative?"

Her fist clenched at her sides. "Perfectly."

* * *

Miranda paced about her cabin, her hair an unkempt mess with the sheer amount of times her fingers had journeyed through it. She hated herself in that moment. No, hate was too weak a word. Despised. _Loathed_.

What had she protected by lying all those weeks ago when Shepard had first risen? She had claimed the project had gone off without a hitch when it oh so clearly had not. What had she gained? Had she been protecting her pride? Her credibility? Her experiment? Her place on the mission? No, none of those things, not really. It had been Shepard herself.

At first she had been protecting Shepard from scrutiny, as a project, a two year investment. Miranda had wanted to pretend she had been perfect, and then quickly right the situation to make it so. Nothing had gone according to plan however, and soon it became clear that Shepard's issues might not be something she could fix. Shepard was clearly broken, and still Miranda had maintained her lie even when all hope of coming up with some magical cure had vanished from her mind.

Why? Because Shepard was her responsibility, _her _assignment. Because when the Illusive Man received word of her failure he might have taken her off the project. Because that meant somebody else would have been sent in to replace her, someone who had little sympathy for Shepard or her situation. It would have been someone who didn't care. That was why, that was the reason. She had been protecting Shepard, and now it could easily be Oriana who paid the price.

The Illusive Man had certainly skirted around the issue, but they had developed a healthy understanding of one another over the years. She knew the way he operated, it wasn't necessary for him to spell his intentions out for her. Miranda knew what the threat was; she knew how quickly she could lose everything that mattered because of an idiotic breach of trust. She had to get Shepard under control, fix her, or he would reprimand her in the only way that would truly affect her.

Oriana.

Oriana was it, the one person that had actually been worth protecting in the first place. That was Miranda's reason, her purpose in life. She had lost sight of that somewhere along the way, and she had nobody to blame but herself…and maybe Shepard, because Shepard could never just calm down. Always a problem, there was always some sort of trigger. She always had to collapse upon herself at the slightest provocation. She couldn't handle one bloody mission without freaking out and now everything was crumbling to pieces.

_Fucking Shepard._

And then she was there, standing in Miranda's doorway, not a care in the world. She looked so weak, so frail and fragile. Her face was pale and her eyes were dull and Miranda was struck with the sudden realization that there was no way in the world she could pull this off. She couldn't fix Shepard, couldn't help her in the ways she so clearly needed, and she sincerely doubted anyone on the ship could. It would be impossible to make the kind of headway that was now being demanded of her in the circumstances they continually found themselves in.

Shepard was looking at Miranda warily, as if she could sense the turmoil, feel the uncertainty and fear. "Miranda," she tried quietly, "I wanted to apologize about what happened out there." She smiled dimly. "There was just that flash and then the wind and-"

"You couldn't just hold it together for once?" Miranda snapped. Her gaze was murderous and her words like daggers laced with exasperation. "Enough with the excuses. It's always because it was too bright or too dark, too hot and then too cold. That's being _alive, _Shepard. That's it. Everyone does it, we all manage. We're not going to coddle you until all the bad feelings go away."

Shepard stood silent, jaw clenched. Her mouth opened for a moment, as though she meant to speak, and then it snapped shut.

"You were dead and it was awful and it hurt but now it's over. You're back and you're alive and you have responsibilities and you can't just-" Miranda made an unintelligible sound as her hands flew up to her face in frustration. She needed to calm down, to reign in her emotions and remind herself that it wasn't Shepard she was frustrated with. "I just need some time alone right now."

"What?" Miranda could hear the hurt in her voice, but found she couldn't stand to look in Shepard's direction to gauge the expression on her face.

"I need you to leave."

So Shepard did just that.

* * *

Miranda sat at her desk, head in hands, mind racing. There was no guarantee she could improve the state of things, she had probably only aggravated Shepard's mindset further by being so cold, which would do nothing but make the situation worse. Not only that, but now she had to carry the guilt around of knowing she had been properly unfair. Shepard had no way of knowing the chain reaction she had set off, and really when it came down to it, Miranda was the true beginning of the problem. She had lied, and now it was coming back to bite her in the ass.

She had to figure this out. Worst case scenario, Oriana's location was turned into easily accessible information and Miranda was removed from her post on the Normandy to be replaced with someone else. Her entire world was being threatened. The Illusive Man had given her an ultimatum, but she found she wasn't confident in her abilities to secure the results he desired. Shepard was improving yes, she genuinely believed that, but there was no way to say if she would ever return to her old self one hundred percent. Oriana hung in the balance, there was no way she could leave that up to chance.

She would have to take a risk, a drastic move, one that involved going behind the Illusive Man's back once more, and she'd need the help of a few friends both old and new.

* * *

It was with a heavy heart that Miranda rode the elevator up to the captain's cabin. Her own nervousness threatened to consume her. Shepard had every right to be upset with her, to deny her entry and push her away. And then there was everything with Oriana. She had to ask Shepard for a favor after being a complete ass, and first she had to apologize. If she were totally honest with herself, she felt a bit nauseous. Suddenly for some reason the thought of Shepard believing she was apologizing merely to coax a favor out of the woman was one she couldn't bear.

She stepped through the doors into the room to find Shepard standing at the bottom of the cabin's few stairs, clearly waiting for her since she had sent word of her arrival ahead with EDI. Miranda hesitated as soon as she crossed the threshold, overwhelmed with anxiety. Shepard had an unreadable expression on her face, and it was maddening.

When it became apparent Miranda was hesitant to speak, Shepard kindly tried to offer an easy segue into conversation. "EDI said it was important?"

Miranda took a step forward, emboldened by the lack of animosity in her words, but her wary nature quickly caught up with her and she faltered, sidetracking to small talk. "I didn't ask before, did you get everything sorted out okay?"

Shepard looked more than a little confused at the inane question, but she offered a small smile nonetheless. "Yeah, I had a talk with Jack." She hesitated, chuckling quietly, "Well, as much of a talk as one can have with Jack. We've been getting closer and I think the whole thing sorta freaked her out." Shepard shook her head, looking a bit embarrassed at the idea of being looked up to in any sort of way. "She'd never admit it of course, but I have a feeling I kinda shook her faith a bit." There was a pause for a moment, and then she continued. "Garrus was fine, just concerned. Chakwas gave me a talking to though. A bit upset that I never found time to confide in her about everything."

Miranda's gaze fell to the floor as a wave of guilt swept through her. "I suppose I should apologize about that. I know you wanted to keep our discussions private."

"It's fine," Shepard cut her off quickly. "I trust Chakwas, and I know you only told her the things you had to." A sour look crossed her face. "It's not like the whole crew isn't spreading rumors anyhow. It doesn't really matter anymore."

"Still," Miranda took a step closer, knowing she had much more to apologize for, "it was unfair to you. I," she hesitated, wracking her brain for the right thing to say. "About before, Shepard," she faltered once more.

As Miranda struggled to find the proper words, Shepard beat her to the punch. She was looking down at the floor, digging her hands into her pockets. "Did I get you in trouble?"

Miranda felt her entire being soften, and any fears she had arrived with dissolved into obscurity. There was something about Shepard that was so _pure._ She was good, plain and simple. A good person to her very core. She wasn't mad at Miranda for snapping, she was only hurt and worried that whatever was going on, she might have somehow been the cause. "No," she said softly. "I got myself in trouble, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, Shepard."

It was odd how easily the apology came. That had never happened for Miranda before. Usually they were said in bitterness, something she had to do to get whatever it was she needed from the person, simple manipulation. Now though, she meant the words with every bit of herself. She owned the mistake, claimed it for herself, and did so gladly so long as it soothed Shepard's mind.

"Don't worry about it." Shepard waved it away dismissively. "You were right. There's too much riding on me. I can't live the rest of my life like this, especially when I have all of you to think about. I could be risking all of your lives if I make a mistake like that on a mission again." She turned her head away, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm lucky you were there to take over for me. I introduced myself to Thane earlier, and it sounds like things wouldn't have ended so well without you. Thank you."

Miranda shifted, crossing her arms in front of her chest almost protectively. She wasn't used to such sincere gratitude from a superior. Any praise she received was usually because they had another job lined up that they were trying to sweet talk her into performing. Shepard had no ulterior motive though, she meant every word. "Well, that is my job," Miranda managed awkwardly, unable to come up with anything more sincere. She found she felt increasingly more out of her element with every private encounter they shared.

There was a wry smile on Shepard's face at the woman's response, and she shook her head. "Of course." She wavered for a moment, seemingly debating if the question on the tip of her tongue was appropriate or not. Finally, she caught Miranda's eye. "So can you talk about what is going on? Or is it some top secret Cerberus crap?"

Miranda recoiled slightly, unconsciously pulling her arms more tightly around herself. "Actually," she replied carefully, "it's a personal thing."

"Oh," Shepard rubbed at the back of her neck at the revelation and winced as she agitated the still tender wounds she had forgotten Chakwas had warned her about earlier. Her hand dropped quickly and Miranda offered her a sympathetic look. "Come sit down," she said at length, and moved over to the couches while Miranda followed.

Shepard was leaning forward in her seat, gazing over at Miranda expectantly, offering complete and total undivided attention. It was a reassuring sight, it filled Miranda with a sort of comfort she hadn't experienced before. The way Shepard was looking at her, it was as though whatever she asked for, whatever she needed, it would be hers without question. It felt safe.

"Do you remember what I told you about my genetic modifications?" Shepard nodded immediately, motioning for Miranda to continue. "Well there's more to it."

Shepard listened in silence as Miranda informed her about her father, never interrupting or saying a word as all of the bits and pieces of information she had been collecting over their time together were expanded upon at last. Miranda never said it out loud, but Shepard caught on to the main point of the tale, The Illusive Man had lost a bit of trust, and now Miranda needed to ensure her sister was safe.

"Okay." Shepard leaned back in her seat, nodding.

"Okay?" Miranda seemed skeptical, which lead Shepard to bark out a laugh.

"Yes, okay." She looked thoughtful for a few moments. "I know this is supposed to be a simple thing, but you know I like to have a third, it's not smart to move around in two man groups. Who do you want on this? Jacob?"

Miranda bit her bottom lip, a sudden bought of self consciousness overwhelming her. "Well," she glanced away, "I thought we have been doing fairly well working with Garrus. We seem to move the most efficiently with him."

Shepard was beaming at the admission. "Well I'll talk to him in the morning then, see if he has any complaints."

Miranda glanced up at her, affection for the woman flooding through her so suddenly it was disconcerting. "Thank you, Shepard. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

Sobering up quickly, Shepard looked away. "Well, I haven't done anything yet. Why don't you hold that thought until after we've succeeded, eh?"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: A wee little foolish chapter for ya. We'll get on to the mission tomorrow, but I needed to do this first. Sorry if it's boring at all, but I needed it to get some key and subtle emotions and plot points set up for the future. I tried to add a bit of humor for you to keep it entertaining.

No hugs yet I'm afraid, Dark Shadows 01. Give me probably two more chapters after this, hopefully your patience will pay off.

* * *

They had an entire day to wait until the plan could be set in motion. Miranda's contacts needed to organize, the family needed to be convinced and prepared. It took enough time that they were forced to wait around, but not a substantial enough amount that it justified leaving the planet to set off on other ventures. And so, Shepard found herself letting the crew loose on Illium for a day of relaxation.

Most everyone went their separate ways, save for Thane, Samara, and Miranda. The asari had been meditating when Shepard had offered her shore leave, and requested not to be bothered. Shepard didn't push the subject, finding it had to be in the observation room for an extended period of time even when the ship was docked. The size of the window made her a bit nervous; it felt like a structural weakness that was just begging to take a missile. Thane had claimed it was for the best that he stayed aboard the Normandy, and Shepard had to agree. Though there had yet to be any news on an investigation involving Nassana's death, parading him around the shopping center would be a bit like tempting fate.

Miranda had no excuse to be hiding away in her cabin however, and that was why Shepard invaded the room to find her working diligently at her terminal as looked up from her desk instantly, trying to hide her unease. "Is something wrong?"

Honestly, she had been half expecting Shepard to visit all morning to let her down gently and explain that they really didn't have the time to be wasting on her personal issues. It had turned into an entire day's project once Miranda had worked out the logistics of everything, and she knew that was asking a lot. Reluctantly she glanced back down at her terminal to cut off the audio feed in her cabin, an action she had found herself doing frequently of late.

Shepard merely shrugged in response. "I was thinking it would be a good idea to check out some of the upgrades people have been mentioning since we're probably going to be grounded here until the better part of tomorrow. Even if we don't it seems kind of silly not to restock on a few necessities." She glanced about nervously for a moment, her voice dropping lower. "Plus, I figure we need some sort of story as to why we're hanging out here. I'm sure a day and a half of inactivity will have the Illusive Man scratching his head."

Miranda raised an eyebrow, more surprised at herself than Shepard. She hadn't thought of that, it really was an obvious thing. It seemed she was so wrapped up in being anxious and focusing on her sister that she had let a major detail slip past. "Right," she closed up her work and stood. "Was there something you had in mind?"

A mischievous glint sparked in Shepard's eye as she offered a grin. "Actually, Garrus mentioned something about this giant forward cannon…"

"Ah," Miranda crossed her arms, trying to hold back a smile. "I was actually looking for an answer more along the lines of reinforcing the Normandy's shielding or something else that could assist in perhaps saving our lives at some point."

"Hey," Shepard said defensively, holding up her hands, "I'm not saying building up our defenses is a waste of time. I'm just suggesting that sometimes the best solution to a problem is a _really _big gun." She gave Miranda a pointed look, but it seemed her XO remained unconvinced. With a heavy sigh, she let her arms fell to her sides in defeat. "Fine, if you want to be all boring and practical about it then yeah, okay. Shields first, then guns."

* * *

Miranda shifted uncomfortably from leg to leg as she watched the scene unfold before her. She should have known spending any time with Shepard in public would end like this.

"So why are the two of you on a break?" Shepard asked the asari before her sincerely, and Miranda wanted to roll her eyes in response. They were supposed to be getting work done, not catching up on Illium gossip, not to mention the krogan earnestly shouting poetry at them from a few feet away was beginning to get unbearably grating.

His words made her cringe with secondhand embarrassment. It was ridiculous, standing there, reciting those awful phrases. She could not imagine being in the asari's shoes, having to sit through that in the middle of the crowded shopping center. It must be absolutely humiliating.

Realizing she had lost herself in thought, Miranda quickly tuned back into the conversation, hoping she could steer Shepard's attention somewhere else. It was too late though, while she had been pondering Shepard had been growing increasingly more invested.

"You need to talk to him," Shepard was saying, "he's just going to keep shouting poetry until you do."

The asari let out a heavy sigh. "I know, but it's tough, I like him a lot. Hell, I love him, but I don't know if he's permanent bond material."

"Look at him, he's obviously crazy about you."

"Is he? I mean, what if he just wants to have kids? Am I just his baby making machine? He said I wasn't but-"

Miranda raised an eyebrow, _clearly _she had missed something vital in this conversation. Shepard took a step closer to the woman. "If he said that then you either trust him, so you have nothing to worry about, or you don't, and you've already decided."

"I guess I hadn't thought about it like that. I do trust him, if he said it. I'm going to talk to him." She beamed at Shepard. "Here, I'm giving you a discount at the terminal, thanks for the help."

Shepard said her goodbyes, and just like that, the asari was gone. Miranda sighed in relief as the discussion was finally over, and she side eyed Shepard as they moved towards the aforementioned terminal. "Please tell me you were expecting that encounter to end in a free discount from the moment you pursued it."

Shepard glanced over at her, grinning. "Would it be so wrong if I wasn't?"

Miranda bit back a groan. "You were genuinely playing matchmaker?"

"There's nothing in the rules that say I can't be a rifle wielding space commander _and _a romantic," Shepard defended with a grin. "And you're telling me you didn't want them to work things out?"

Giving off an air of immense disinterest, Miranda sniffed. "I was hardly listening. From what I did hear however, it seems you did the woman a disservice." Shepard gave her a look that was clearly demanding elaboration. "He was quite emotional, overly so. Clingy even, some might say."

Shepard barked out a laugh. "Clingy?" She shook her head. "He was making a bit of a fool of himself because she was breaking his heart, no harm done."

"Well, I just don't think harassing someone until they finally take you back out of irritation is the proper way to go about things."

Miranda flushed as Shepard's lips quickly split into an almost wicked smirk. "Right, I see, he should have been following proper protocol. You don't know, maybe he'll write a report about it later tonight."

Though her eyes narrowed in playful irritation, Miranda found she was smiling. "Let's just try to stay on task from here on out, agreed?"

Shepard nodded. "Agreed." Suddenly her omnitool sounded off before she could continue further. Miranda looked on with interest as Shepard read through the message she had been sent. "It's from Liara," Shepard explained after a moment. "Seems she's in need of a favor." She looked up and offered Miranda a smile. "Feeling charitable?"

Miranda hesitated, she was reluctant to agree and be caught in a potentially awkward situation by showing up to Liara's office with Shepard alone. The relationship Shepard and the asari had had in the past was common knowledge aboard the Normandy, and it appeared as though the situation between them had become…_confused_…of late. Shepard seemed unsure of where she stood with the doctor and if there was going to be heartfelt confessions and tearful apologies Miranda was positive she wanted to keep far away. Extraordinarily far.

On the other hand, the only reason they were even standing there in that moment was because Shepard was doing a personal favor for her. Miranda was hardly in the position to reject her requests. Eventually she nodded and Shepard flashed a grateful smile. She fiddled with her omnitool for a moment and then brought her hand up to touch the piece in her ear.

"Garrus, where are you?" She said suddenly. Miranda shifted a bit closer, unable to hear the other half of the conversation.

"Shepard? I just so happen to be crashing a Salarian's bachelor party."

Shepard glanced at Miranda questioningly, as though expecting her to have the answer. "Salarians have bachelor parties?"

"This one does." Garrus chuckled. "What do you need me for?"

"Nothing, Liara just asked me back to her office so I'm headed there with Miranda now. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up there, apparently she's got a job for me. I don't know how intensive it is, but you know me, I always-"

"Take a third, yes I know," he griped over the open line.

Shepard grinned and offered Miranda a quick wink. "There's the team spirit I love."

"Next shore leave you better leave me completely alone," he warned good naturedly before hanging up, earning a laugh from Shepard.

Miranda shook her head; she would never understand how such casual relationships with her subordinates enabled Shepard such success in their missions.

* * *

Their crewmate was already waiting for them when Shepard and Miranda reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to Liara's office space. He greeted them warmly and they headed up to where the secretary sat, waiting for admittance.

Liara was standing as soon as they entered, and Shepard offered a timid wave. "I hope you don't mind that I've brought some backup." Garrus and Liara met with a hearty handshake, both exclaiming how good it was to see one another once more. That was when Shepard turned back to Miranda who had been lingering by the doorway uncertainly. "And this is Miranda Lawson, she's-"

Liara's lips had quirked up into a smile. "We've met, yes."

Shepard's head snapped back and forth between the two of them. "Oh?"

Miranda offered the asari a stiff, but polite nod. "I'm glad to see you are doing well, Dr. T'Soni."

"Likewise," Liara offered with deceptively sweet insincerity. Miranda couldn't fault her for it; they had hardly parted on good terms. The Illusive Man had made the decision to leave Feron to his fate, and whether Miranda personally agreed with the decision or not, she had followed orders and moved on.

"How-" Shepard started to ask, but Liara quickly interrupted, moving behind her desk with haste.

"Later. For now, I need your help sorting this out as soon as possible."

Miranda watched the sour look that darkened Shepard's features. She understood the feeling, she had never done well with being left in the dark herself. An odd feeling stirred in Miranda at the scene. Shepard felt like a stranger here, there was an uncertain look in her eyes and her posture was nothing short of submissive. She clearly was hurting, pining for attention and reassurance from the asari that for some reason wasn't being offered. It almost made her angry Miranda realized suddenly, and she took a deep breath, trying to quell whatever emotion was threatening to take form inside of her.

After all, it really was none of her business.

* * *

"Sorry about dragging you here, Garrus," Shepard said sullenly as they descended the stairs just minutes later. "I didn't realize it was a glorified errand running position. You can take off if you like."

He waved her apology away. "I wasn't doing anything important, and it was good to see Liara again. Besides, I have to keep an eye on you. If anyone can manage to get shot at while hacking a few terminals, it's you."

Miranda was surprised when Shepard didn't laugh at that. Instead, her brow furrowed and a small frown graced her lips. "What did you think of her?"

"Liara?" Garrus paused, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Like I said, it was good to see her again. I'm glad she found a place here and seems to be thriving."

Shepard shook her head. "I mean like," she hesitated, "doesn't she feel…different?"

He glanced at her, clearly mystified. "Different?"

Suddenly, Shepard was laughing. She gave him a hearty pat on the back. "Sorry, forget I said anything. Come on, let's go find our access points."

"Shepard," Garrus offered quietly, "I just think she's grown up."

There was silence for a moment, and then Shepard nodded. "Yeah, I guess she has."

* * *

The terminals were easy enough to find, sure, but what they were doing wasn't strictly legal. It didn't help that all of the access point were located in crowded areas filled with nosy shoppers. Garrus ended up being useful in the end as he offered the abilities of a lookout, able to stand behind Miranda and Shepard as they worked and hiss a quick warning when someone was getting too close.

It was when they were working on the third terminal that Shepard finally broached the topic Miranda had been expecting to hear since their task had been assigned. "You never told me you and Liara had met before." Shepard looked calm, but her tone was accusatory. Despite her better judgment, she had felt as though she could trust Miranda. Finding out things like this had been kept hidden from her was not the most enjoyable revelation.

Miranda averted her eyes down towards the terminal. "It never came up," she tried lamely, busying her hands with the keypad.

Shepard pushed her hands away, perhaps more forcefully than was strictly necessary. "I've got it," she said a bit harshly, quickly putting her hacking talents to use. It seemed to be one of the few skills she possessed that were superior to Miranda's and didn't involve charging blindly into battle. "So," she drawled as she successfully pulled up the information, "what exactly was the nature of the meeting? You'll have to forgive me if I find it hard to believe that Liara had dealings with racist extremists like Cerberus and it was a friendly affair."

"Cerberus isn't-" Miranda cut herself off, biting her tongue. It wasn't a battle she could win, she would have to let it slide. She didn't have to make Shepard love Cerberus, she just had to make sure she was never a threat. Finally, she decided to simply address the question asked. "I'm afraid you'll have to discuss that with her, Shepard."

She was surprised to hear Shepard laugh at that. "God, you guys are so frustratingly cryptic."

* * *

Shepard's mood had not improved by the time their task was completed, in fact, it had actually gotten worse. She made Miranda review the data they collected once more, waiting for a magical answer that her XO didn't have.

"I'm sorry, Shepard," Miranda said once again. "It doesn't add up. None of the suspects could possibly be a match."

"You're sure?" Shepard had an almost desperate look in her eye, and Miranda knew what her response meant to the woman. She had to be right, she _couldn't _be wrong.

"Positive," She responded with conviction, and Shepard nodded her trust before making the call.

* * *

They returned to the top of the stairs just outside of Liara's office, all three noting Nyxeris' absence from her seat at the desk. From what they had heard over the com link, Liara was not going to be too forgiving. Shepard could only hope she had not taken things unnecessarily far in her anger at being tricked.

Miranda moved to follow Shepard as the woman stepped closer to the door but Garrus held out an arm to halt her progress. He gave her a pointed look, and reluctantly she took a step back. "We'll let you go in alone, Shepard," he said gently. "I think there are some things you need to get off your chest."

Shepard nodded her gratitude. "You two are free to take off if you like."

It was oddly upsetting to watch the doors close behind Shepard. For whatever reason, Miranda felt like she should be there too. She didn't want to leave Shepard alone with Liara, that protective urge was creeping through her again. It was quiet, but persistent and steadily growing.

She leaned against the wall as she had the first time they had found themselves in this position. It had not been all that long ago and yet it felt like so much had changed since then. Garrus stuck around for a bit, but eventually he grew impatient and left, knowing Shepard's use for him was complete. Miranda knew she would be free to leave as well, but she lingered despite how much time was passing. It was either remain or return to the Normandy and carry on working. Besides, she found herself not enjoying the idea of the conversation behind the door going poorly and Shepard stepping outside to find both of her companions gone.

When Shepard finally emerged, she was alone, and looked rather awful. She gave Miranda a curious glance, but quickly masked it with a smile. "Garrus gave up on me?" Miranda nodded in response, unsure of how she should proceed. Luckily, Shepard wasn't finished. "Come on, I need some alcohol."

Miranda shook her head. "I should really be getting back, Shepard. I can't-"

She was cut off by a meaningful glare.

* * *

They sat next to each other in a booth that lined a wall of the room. Shepard had gotten her hands on a drink, but she hardly took more than a sip or two from it, instead opting to stare broodingly at the liquid as she sloshed it around the glass distractedly.

Miranda watched her silently for a few moments. "Did you want to talk about it?" she finally asked cautiously, trying to work out the reason she had been dragged along.

"Not in the slightest," Shepard replied bitterly, though it was clear her anger was not directed at Miranda. "There's nothing _to _talk about." Miranda fell into silence once more, unsure of what to say. "Why didn't you tell me it was Liara who gave me to you?" Shepard asked quietly.

Miranda blinked, surprised. She hadn't expected Liara to give up the information so quickly, if at all. She had seemed dead set against Shepard knowing what happened when they had met two years ago. It didn't matter why she had chosen to reveal it now, the truth was out. "I promised I wouldn't," she said honestly.

Shepard seemed to accept that, and suddenly a smirk was spreading across her face. "Don't you hate it when you die for two years and when you finally make it back everybody either hates you, calls you a traitor, or tries to blow you up again?"

"Can't say I've ever had the experience," Miranda said with a quiet laugh.

Shepard glanced over at her, genuinely smiling now. "You know," she leaned in closer, "I have to say you've really surprised me."

Suddenly, it was far too hot and the crowd in the bar was far too loud and Shepard was far too close and more than anything Miranda wanted to be alone in her cabin far away from whatever this was. She cleared her throat, joking uncomfortably. "Pleasantly, I hope."

And then Shepard's face fell into a look of pure horror, eyes wide and mouth open, she leaned back against the booth and slowly slid down into a slouch. Miranda watched her, positively bewildered before turning to glance around the room suspiciously, looking for trouble.

"Stop that," Shepard hissed up at her frantically. "Don't move, don't draw attention to us. Just look natural."

Miranda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was certainly difficult to look natural when Shepard insisted on acting so childishly right beside her. "What's the problem?" she asked more harshly than she had intended.

"I think Conrad is by the bar." Miranda craned her neck to see but Shepard grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Stop doing that," she hissed out again. "Don't make eye contact."

"Conrad?" Miranda questioned, gently pulling her arm out of Shepard's grasp.

"Yeah." Suddenly Shepard's voice sounded almost sheepish, and she glanced down at her drink. "He's an, uh, well," she faltered for a moment, "a fan?"

It was incredibly hard to bite back the laugh that threatened to burst forth. "You have fans?"

Shepard straightened up in her seat, coughing lightly. "Uh, well, yes." She winced, backtracking, "I mean no, not really." She let out a heavy sigh. "Just the one, really. Trust me, one of Conrad is quite enough. He seems distracted over there though, if I keep a low profile he won't even know I was ever here."

Miranda looked on at the various people mingling near the bar in amusement. "So which one is he, the man in the armor?" Shepard grumbled something, but she didn't catch it as something else caught her eye. "Was he part of your program, Shepard?" She was confused, if there was one thing she was an expert on, it was Commander Shepard's past record. She had never worked with a Conrad before.

"What?" Shepard was sitting up perfectly now, leaning past Miranda to get a good view.

Miranda's eyes narrowed as she peered through the poor lighting of the room and tried to verify what she thought she had caught a glimpse of. "He is definitely wearing N7 armor."

"No," Shepard shook her head as she spoke. "That's impossible. He was just some creepy guy from Earth with what I'm pretty sure was an imaginary wife."

"Well, it looks like he is now a member of the N7 program and," she turned to glance at Shepard with a teasing smile, "he seems to be terrorizing that poor employee behind the counter. Seems like the sort of injustice the great Commander Shepard would put a stop to."

Shepard looked positively distraught. "Don't make me go over there."

"I wasn't implying anything of the sort. I was merely making an observation."

"I hate you." Shepard glared at her while she stood, shuffling out of the booth and making her way towards her adoring fan with reluctant steps. "A lot."

Miranda looked on with amusement, watching the scene that played out before her with enjoyment even though she could not hear a word that was being said. It wasn't long before Shepard returned, exasperation clear on her face.

"Do you feel like tricking an asari into trying to claim ownership of a bar?"

Miranda failed miserably at fighting the smile that spread across her face. "Do you even have to ask?"


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I know, I know, I'm a liar. I promise I was legitimately busy and not just being lazy. But, you get an extra long chapter for your patience! Whoop! Anywho, time to zim zoom on through this mission because game dialogue is a pain. Honestly, this was kinda a drag. Least favorite chapter so far, buuuuuuuut next chapter is going to be much better. Suffer through this with me so we can get on to the fluffy stuff. I changed up a few minor things, dialogue order and such and a few comments by people that wouldn't have really made sense here. I'm really sorry, I kind of hate this chapter, but I tried to put a hunk of original stuff here and there for ya to make it worthwhile.

P.s I'm super busy so I didn't have time for much editing. I apologize if there are more grammatical issues than usual.

* * *

Miranda's mind had been whirring from the moment the word complication had been uttered, and now she had to deal with the information passed along by Niket that both her father and what was sure to be a generous amount of Eclipse mercenaries were going to be involved.

"Is it just me or can we not go a day with running into a pack of them?" Garrus grumbled from behind her. Shepard gave him a quick nudge with her elbow to shut him up. Judging by the expression on Miranda's face it wasn't the appropriate time for playful banter.

They stood together in front of Miranda's contact silently as the asari elaborated. "He suggested that the mercs might be watching for you personally. He's offered to escort Oriana's family to the terminal instead."

"Uh, hold on," Shepard said, taking a few steps forward. She had been letting Miranda do the talking thus far, but the situation had changed very quickly. "Who's Niket? You never mentioned him."

"He's a friend," Miranda offered evasively. They needed to get moving quickly, there was no time to play twenty questions with Shepard. "He and I go back a long way." She felt rather uneasy about the whole situation. Nothing was really adding up, they shouldn't have found themselves in this position.

It didn't make any sense whatsoever; they were overseeing the move that was all. No Cerberus involvement, and certainly they were going to great lengths to not draw attention to themselves. Somehow her father had gotten wind of the situation though, which left only two options. Either the Illusive Man had betrayed her trust and informed him, or her father had already been dangerously close on her sister's tail and Miranda's interference had caught his notice. Either way, things were quickly getting more and more complicated.

Miranda looked at Shepard for direction without another thought; it was second nature by that point. The woman took a step back however, moving to stand beside Garrus once more. "We're off the clock, Miranda. I'm taking a backseat on this one, you're in charge."

If Garrus had any complaints about the change in command he didn't voice them, and after a moment of reluctance Miranda nodded. She knew what Shepard was doing, giving her the control she needed. If something went wrong, if the worst happened, the responsibility would be hers alone.

"We'll follow Niket's suggestion. Shepard and I will take a car and draw their attention while he escorts the family to the shuttle," she managed at length.

Once again, Garrus was grumbling. "Oh, and I'm walking I suppose." It earned him another elbow from Shepard to the side.

Miranda continued on, directing the next point towards her contact as if she hadn't heard the interruption. "Give him full access to the family's itinerary just to be safe."

"Understood, Ms. Lawson."

Shepard let out a soft laugh. "So the plan is for us to get shot down by Eclipse while your sister gets to safety?"

Miranda glanced over at her, appearing almost nervous to Shepard. The look in her eyes made it obvious what thoughts she was entertaining. Miranda was waiting for the moment Shepard would leave, the one piece of information revealed that would push her over the edge and claim that it was becoming way too dangerous of an operation for them to be risking their lives on. She could never force Miranda to abandon it of course, but it would be such a simple thing for her to take Garrus and go.

Swallowing, Miranda summoned up the most confident voice she could manage. "Eclipse will be under orders to take my sister alive. They won't risk anything that could kill us."

"Comforting," Garrus offered quietly. "Maybe I _will _walk."

Shepard shot him a halfhearted glare. "Would you knock it off?" She shook her head as he held up his hands defensively, offering her other teammate an apologetic look. "We're ready whenever you are, Miranda."

"Thank you, Shepard." Miranda had spoken quietly, almost shyly. Somehow, miraculously, the commander was still there, offering help despite how quickly things had spiraled out of control before the job had even started. "I appreciate this," she continued honestly. "I know we hadn't planned on Eclipse, but they never planned on you."

Miranda brushed by them, hastily heading for the car her contact had apparently prepared for them. They quickly fell into step a few paces behind her. "I'm sitting in the front, I hope you know," Garrus whispered to Shepard as they moved along. "That airbag is mine."

Shepard fought back a smirk. "We're not going to get shot down, relax."

"It's us, Shepard," He shot back sagely.

She was prepared to offer a snarky rebuttal, but knew there could be no truth behind it. Garrus was right, their track record hardly instilled confidence. "We're probably going to get shot down, huh?"

"Undeniably."

* * *

Not that she was keeping track or anything, but if Shepard had to guess she would be comfortable betting that that was most certainly the quickest they had ever been blasted out of the sky. Miranda seemed positively unfazed by the development, all but leaping from their disabled vehicle with determination to dash out and meet their newest adversaries head on. Garrus and Shepard stumbled out after her shakily, moving in more of a weaving motion rather than a straight line despite their best efforts.

"I can't believe you stuffed me in the backseat," Garrus murmured angrily as they moved to catch up with their squadmate. "Pulling rank to get shotgun. What an abuse of power. You deserved the dashboard to the face."

Shepard tenderly rubbed at the throbbing in her forehead, lamenting at the fact there would certainly be a sizable lump in a few minutes. They _would_ be in the car with the faulty airbag deployment, that was just her luck. Garrus would never let her live it down. "I vote that's the last time we let Miranda drive," she shot back under a breath as they finally caught up to said woman, skidding to a halt behind her as they found themselves face to face with a group of brutish mercs.

"Since you're not firing yet, I trust you know who I am." Miranda stood before the pack of men, unflinching, not a hint of fear to be heard in her voice. Shepard found she was rather enjoying the experience. It was nice to be on the sidelines for once. Comparatively, there was little pressure.

The leader of the group took a few steps closer. "Yeah. They said you'd be in the car. You're the bitch that kidnapped our boss' little girl."

Miranda seemed surprisingly affected by the comment. "Kiddnapped?" Shepard was too focused on the term little girl however to get hung up on that. She took a couple steps forward so she was by her friend's side while the woman continued. "This doesn't involve you. I suggest you take your men and go."

"Uh, wait a second, Miranda." Shepard gave her a hard look. "You said she was your twin sister."

The merc leader laughed at that. "That what she told you? No, this crazy bitch kidnapped our boss' baby daughter. He's been looking for her for more than a decade."

Miranda resisted the urge to take the man out right then and there, she didn't have time for this. All he was doing now was stalling their progress and possibly making Shepard's loyalty to her waver. "It's complicated, Shepard," she tried quickly, working hard to keep the exasperation from her voice. "We share the same DNA, just not the same birthday."

"You took a baby from the richest guy in the galaxy, lady. I don't know what your damage is, but you're not getting away with it."

Shepard hardly registered the man's words as she scrutinized Miranda with a piercing gaze. She had made it quite clear on numerous occasions how little she enjoyed being kept in the dark, and she thought they had been past that point. Evidently, she was wrong, and whatever was really going on here, Miranda thought it was something she needed to dance around the truth on.

Apparently sensing her hesitation, Miranda gave her a pleading look. Her eyes were pouring out a message, and considering what was just revealed, Shepard really knew she shouldn't be falling for it as the woman begged her to act now and ask questions later. For whatever reason, despite all of the evidence that suggested she shouldn't, Shepard found she still trusted Miranda implicitly. There would be an explanation, there had to be.

Strapping on her usual confidence, Shepard turned to face the man. "You're not getting Miranda's sister. If you push this, it will go badly for you."

Beside her, Miranda let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, even as the man in front of them crossed his arms defiantly. Clearly he was unimpressed. "Captain Enyala ordered us to give you one chance to walk away. But this whole time we've been talking, my men have been lining up shots. When I say the word, we unleash hell on your squad." He got up close to Shepard, clearly trying to intimidate her with his size. Shepard offered Miranda a sideways look and a meaningful smirk, there really was nothing less attractive than a bully. "So I suggest you walk away nicely, unless you want things to get u-"

He was unable to finish his sentence as Shepard's knee found his gut. Garrus and Miranda were already pumping shots into the men that had been standing behind him before he even hit the ground.

"Ah," Garrus sighed out as soon as the dust settled. "I always get bored during the talking parts."

Shepard rolled her eyes at his caviler attitude, though there was the hint of a smile on her lips. Miranda seemed less than amused however, her expression betraying how obviously anxious she felt. "We should go. I'm worried about this Captain Enyala getting to Niket before us."

"Right," Shepard replied, sobering up quickly. "Lead the way."

They travelled at a brisk pace, making for a doorway a couple yards away. Miranda was quiet for a bit, but eventually she cracked. Funny, the thought of her lie of omission was actually making her feel guilty. She pondered that for a moment, wondering at how something that used to come so easily made her currently feel at fault. At first she entertained the notion that perhaps she herself had changed, but eventually her mind wandered to Shepard and she accepted the truth. Miranda had no problem with lying, just so long as Shepard wasn't the victim.

"Shepard," she started quietly, trying to find the proper words to mend the rift in trust she had created between them. "I think I owe you an explanation. Like I said, Oriana is my twin, genetically." She hesitated for a moment. "But my father grew her when I was a teenager. She was meant to replace me."

Shepard's eyes narrowed in response to the admission. "Replace?"

Miranda merely nodded, reluctant to delve too far into the details just then. There would be time enough for that later, just so long as everything worked out the way she hoped. "I couldn't let my father do to her what he did to me, so I rescued her." She glanced over at Shepard as they continued to move forward, waiting apprehensively for any sort of reaction.

"Miranda," Shepard stopped short, facing her, disappointment clearly written across her features. "Why didn't you tell me we were saving a kid?"

Miranda had stopped moving as soon as Shepard had, and grew almost defensive in tone. "She's not a child, she'll be nineteen this year. But," she faltered, her voice losing all bite, "well, it didn't seem relevant at the time, I suppose. There are people who would use her against me. I'm very protective when it comes to Oriana." If Shepard didn't know any better, she would say Miranda appeared almost ashamed as she defended her actions. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you sooner," she said at last. "You deserved to know."

Shepard let out a heavy sigh and pushed onwards, Miranda quickly falling into step behind her. "Come on, if Eclipse knows where Oriana is they'll be moving in on her soon. We need to hurry."

* * *

Shepard hated that it wasn't a surprise, that everyone had caught on, that they all had known but none of them had been able to say the words out loud. It had taken until the very last second, until Niket had stood before them proving the truth himself for Miranda to finally accept the reality of the situation. The one person who had held her complete trust had betrayed her, and Shepard could sense just how crippling that actuality was.

The revelation had totally destroyed Miranda, Shepard could practically feel it radiating off of the woman who stood beside her, but she also knew she would never show it. Miranda would continue plowing forward until she was positive Oriana was safe, taking out anyone who was in her way. There would be time for remorse later. That was how Shepard knew Miranda was going to strike when the time came, that was how she was able to react so quickly and wrench Miranda's arm back just before the shot was taken. That was how she saved Niket.

"Miranda, wait. You don't want to do this." Her voice was a plea, she couldn't bear to let Miranda have her way. No matter how unaffected Miranda tried to appear, Shepard was a soldier, same as her. She knew all too well what it felt like to pull the trigger. To take a life, even when it was that of a person who was maliciously targeting you was difficult and draining enough. But to kill someone like this, a friend, a pleasant memory, it would be too much. Those weren't consequences she wanted to watch Miranda live with.

Miranda pulled away from her, eyes narrowed in confused anger. It was her decision to make, Shepard had no business stopping her. "This has to end here, Shepard. My father will keep trying to find Oriana."

Shepard licked her lips as her mind raced, trying frantically to work around any more deaths. "Maybe Niket can help," she offered after a moment. "He could talk to your father, say you got here first." Shepard glanced over at Niket to gauge his reaction, praying he would take the lifeline she had thrown him.

"I'll tell him that you hid her," he said quickly. "That I don't know where she is."

Miranda took a step forward, the fury in her voice barely contained as she spoke, "I never want to see you again, Niket."

He never responded, because that was when the shot was fired. Enyala had gunned him down, blasted him from behind right in front of their faces without a second thought. All hell broke loose and it was then, as Shepard dodged a barrage of bullets from every direction while she dove behind cover, that she accepted today _really _wasn't going their way.

* * *

Miranda looked down at the body at her feet, staring blankly at the lifeless corpse as though it were her first experience with death. The mercenaries had been all but obliterated and now silence had fallen over the three survivors. Shepard watched the scene carefully before deciding she had better intervene; she had never seen the woman in such a state. "Go poke around," she called out to Garrus. "Make sure there are no stragglers."

He gave her a knowing look before heading off into what just moments ago had been a battlefield, giving them some much needed space. Shepard took the opportunity to approach Miranda carefully, all too aware of just what was going through the woman's mind. Miranda didn't acknowledge her presence when she arrived, too absorbed at the sight below her.

"Hey." Shepard rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Hey, come on." Miranda glanced over at her finally, sorrow etched into her features, the cumbersome reality of betrayal so obviously weighing her down. "I know," Shepard soothed at the sight, tentatively silding her arm around her friend. "I know, but you have to focus. We have to make sure she's safe."

Miranda swallowed, nodding frantically as she pulled out of Shepard's light grasp. "We need to oversee the transfer. There could be more Eclipse mercs near the shuttle." The usual determination in her voice had returned.

Shepard offered a gentle smile at her resilience. "Right, so let's get going."

Miranda hesitated for a moment, wanting to express so much at once that she didn't know where to start. "Shepard, I-" her voice wavered, effectively silencing itself.

"It's fine," Shepard responded instantly. "It's okay. Come on."

* * *

Garrus and Miranda met up with Shepard in an out of the way corner of the terminal after everyone had gone their separate ways to scan the area for any more possible trouble. "No sign of Eclipse," Garrus reported. "It looks like we're all clear."

Shepard nodded in acknowledgement, but her focus was on Miranda. She was gazing across the crowded room at where her sister stood, chattering animatedly with who Shepard could only assume were her adoptive parents. The girl looked happy, carefree, and Shepard caught a glimpse of what almost could have been. A Miranda who laughed freely and smiled often, quick to offer a helping hand or a kind word. So much had been buried in unfortunate circumstance, and yet Shepard herself had witnessed the remains of that potential. It was hidden, yes, but had not yet been completely shattered.

"There she is," Miranda said quietly as she sensed Shepard moving up beside her. "She's safe, with her family." She shifted her weight from side to side, suddenly feeling restless. "Come on. We should go."

"Don't you even want to say hello?" Shepard questioned, genuinely confused at Miranda's apparent reluctance.

"It's not about what I want. It's about what's right for her. The less she knows about me, the better. She's got a family. A life. I'll just complicate that for her." The words felt almost wrong as they passed through her lips and Miranda had to come to terms with the truth. What she was saying was accurate, sure. Just for once though, more than anything, she found she wanted nothing more than to indulge in an act of selfishness.

"You almost sound like you believe that." Shepard chuckled as her comment earned her a withering look. "She doesn't need any details, but would it really be so bad for her to know she has a sister who loves her?"

It wasn't a feeling worth fighting, Miranda realized quickly. There was no way she could resist the pull, the urge to meet Oriana and witness firsthand the person the baby she once held in her arms had become. "I guess not."

Shepard sent her along with a nod. "Go ahead. Take all of the time you need."

* * *

Shepard could feel Garrus shuffling about beside her as time wore on, clearly uncomfortable. It didn't take long before he finally voiced his unease. "Should we take off? She probably wants some time alone."

"Go ahead," Shepard replied evenly, her eyes never leaving the sisters. "I don't want her here alone, just in case any more trouble shows up."

Garrus chuckled. "Miranda could handle any stragglers, I'm sure. Besides, their boss was taken out. They have no motivation to pursue her."

"I know." When it was obvious Shepard wasn't about to move anytime soon, Garrus departed with a heavy sigh.

* * *

Miranda returned almost timidly for someone with her usual boldness, discretely attempting to brush away the tears forming in her eyes before they could betray any weakness. Shepard did her the courtesy of pretending the act went on unnoticed. "Everything all settled?"

Nodding, Miranda averted her gaze. "You didn't have to stick around for so long. I'm sorry for making you wait."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Shepard replied honestly. She moved towards the railing a few paces in front of them that separated the public from a nasty drop into the bowels of Illium miles below. Miranda followed, and they leaned over it together, watching silently as Oriana and her parents were loaded onto the shuttle and it took off, joining the dozens of skycars and shuttles already dancing through the crowded air around them. They remained there together, even after the vehicle had long since faded from view.

It was Miranda who broke the peace. "I suppose you have a few questions."

"Only around a thousand," Shepard responded easily, smiling softly when it earned a laugh.

"I'll see what I can do," Miranda offered. She wanted to try and be as open as possible with Shepard, she owed her that much after the ordeal she had just dragged her through. Still, she knew herself well. There would be some things she could never say. Some memories were far too private, some hurts ran far too deep.

Shepard appeared thoughtful for a moment, as though sorting through her mind which topic was best to press first. She had been joking before, yes, but there was truth to be found in the jest. About a dozen questions were swimming through her mind, and now that Oriana was safe and the immediate threat of gunfire had vanished, everything was bubbling up within her, demanding to be answered all at once. It took a few seconds of deliberation, but finally she settled on an inquiry.

"Before, after we ran into that first group of mercs, you used the word replacement."

Miranda gave her a sideways glance. "I did, yes."

Shepard cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Care to elaborate?"

"Not really," Miranda replied truthfully, "but I will." She leaned further over the railing, staring down into the haze below. "Oriana was grown to replace me when it became clear that I would not be manipulated as easily as my father had at first anticipated, just as I was most likely grown to do the same for whoever came before me. Obviously I was never given any significant amount of information on the subject, but it was made incredibly clear that I was not the first child he had created, I was merely the first he had kept."

"I'm sorry," Shepard said suddenly, and Miranda turned her head slightly to look at her. "Before, the things that Niket said…there were a few moments where I agreed with him. I thought maybe you had just been young and feeling rebellious and you thought that taking her would be the best way to get back at your father." She faltered, feeling ashamed. "I should have trusted you. I should have known you had done the right thing."

"It's my fault, Shepard. If I had been honest with you from the beginning you wouldn't have had to suffer through any doubts." Miranda offered an apologetic smile. "I regret not trusting you sooner, I just," she wavered for a moment, "like I said before, I can get a bit protective when it comes to Oriana. I suppose she's my greatest weakness in a way." Suddenly her face fell, a sour look descending over her. "Well, I suppose now she's my _only_ weakness since Niket-" Miranda paused, cutting herself off, her voice turning cold. "I can't believe he sold me out. I didn't even see it coming."

Shepard licked her lips, unsure of what to say. Miranda wasn't the kind of woman to accept classic comforting. She didn't want or need pity, and had little use for sympathy. Still, Shepard knew something had to be said. "Even with all of your upgrades, you're human, just like the rest of us."

Miranda shook her head, pulling back from the railing to straighten up. "I let it get personal and I screwed up." She laughed bitterly. "I was mad at you, you know." Shepard straightened up as well turning to watch Miranda carefully as she continued. "Taking out Niket because he betrayed me I could have dealt with, but seeing him get gunned down like that by some random mercenary…"

"You still cared for him," Shepard offered in defense of her actions, turning away from the railing completely to lean her back against it. Miranda mimicked her position, crossing her arms in front of her chest, watching with a careful gaze as all sorts of people and species moved around them, busying themselves with the mundane and trivial and believing their actions were important. Going to work, eating out for dinner, acing an exam, watering the plants, never having to experience the chaos and destruction she and Shepard were faced with on a daily basis.

"You're right," Miranda admitted at last. "I did. I do." She glanced down at the tile floor. "I never had many friends as a child, at least, few that I had legitimately earned by my own merit. I would like to blame my father for that, say he didn't allow it, but we never really got to that point very often. I was never surrounded by admirers. Probably had to do with the fact I was rather infamous for having a bit of an attitude."

Shepard chuckled at that, delighting in the image of a preteen Miranda spoiled by riches and bossing the servants around with cold authority while coining her now perfected scowl. "I can imagine."

Miranda smiled softly, lost in the memories she usually worked so hard to repress. "And then there was Niket."

"You two were together?" Shepard asked cautiously. She was reluctant to press too far. Miranda had never been keen to delve too deeply into her past on the best of days, and she had just been through a lot. It would be easy for Shepard to accidently take it a step too far and inadvertently cause Miranda to clam up.

Luckily, Miranda seemed to be uncharacteristically up for sharing. "I suppose that could be said, though in title at most. It wasn't like that, not really. We were so young, it was…innocent. Good. It meant so much more." Miranda smiled bitterly. "He was mine. I found him all on my own. When my father demanded I stop associating with him I went behind his back and kept it up anyway. There was nothing he could do about it. Niket belonged to me. When I ran away I left everything from that life behind, except Niket. Sentimental weakness on my part."

Shepard shot her an exasperated look. "You can't toss aside everything you care about just to be safe."

"It's okay, Shepard. My father hurt me but he didn't break me. As much as he tried to turn me into exactly what he wanted, I'm my own person." Shepard wanted to believe in the conviction with which Miranda had said the words, but she had caught a glimpse of the uncertainty in the woman's eyes.

"You still have Oriana."

Miranda offered a small smile. "You're right. I do."

A silence fell over them once again, until it was Shepard who broke it this time around. "Thank you for talking with me about all of this. I know it's not your favorite pastime, so I appreciate you being honest with me."

"Oh, is that all?" Miranda teased, knowing Shepard felt a bit self conscious at having pushed her even slightly. She found she didn't mind it as much as she would have originally expected. It hardly felt soothing to discuss the past, but she found that somewhere along the way her usual aversion had morphed into a rapidly deteriorating reluctance.

"Uh, one more." Shepard looked solemn, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. "Where did you learn to drive? Because I have to say that was a _horrible_ landing."

Miranda broke into laughter. "In my defense, I was fairly distracted and a lot of guns were being pointed in my direction."

"Sure, okay." Shepard rolled her eyes playfully. "Blame the bullets."

"You're one to talk," Miranda replied airily. "I've heard stories, you know. Horror stories."

"Garrus talks too much," Shepard griped.

Miranda hummed in amusement, shifting so she faced Shepard completely as she made a snap decision to let a few things off of her chest. "I wanted to apologize to you, Shepard, and thank you as well. You've been putting a great deal of trust in me on a daily basis, and I don't take that lightly. You've cooperated with me since the very beginning despite your issues with Cerberus and the fact I hardly showed you any sort of kindness upon our first meeting. I understand it must have been difficult for you, what with the first words we shared being so cold."

There was a shy smile on Shepard's lips at the admission. She seemed nervous for a moment, hesitant perhaps, and then the light of resolve set ablaze in her emerald eyes. "They weren't," she finally managed with conviction.

Miranda tilted her head, confused, though there was a smirk on her face. "I implicitly remember you telling me that my attitude was going to be a problem."

"No, that wasn't the first time we met."

**_"Shepard, don't try to move. Just lie still, try to stay calm." _**

"You told me to be calm," Shepard admitted at length. She had a hard time saying the words aloud. They had become _her _words. A steady mantra she smoothed over in her mind like a soldier's lucky coin whenever events threatened to overwhelm her. They brought her solace, comfort. She owned them, and now found herself reluctant to share even with the person who had offered them in the first place. "You said to lie still, relax. I needed to be calm because something was going wrong and you had to fix it." She grimaced. "So I listened, and you did."

Miranda's eyes were wide, it was impossible. Shepard had been far from the point where she should have been able to process and retain memories. It should have been a lost event, something that she should never have truly registered like the hazy remains of a fading dream come dawn. "You remember waking up?"

"Yeah," Shepard said with an embarrassed shrug. "I sorta do."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Oh my gosh, when I wrote 'to each his own' it was no problem, but when I changed 'his' to 'her' word underlined it as wrong. EXCUSE ME. SEXIST. Haha I think I'm getting a wee bit too tired, this is the last 2 am write up I do. Phew.

So there's not exactly a _hug _but…well…

P.S it is 2 am so…what is grammar?

* * *

"Hold on," Shepard mumbled, digging into a pocket with ferocity. Miranda watched with interest. She had suggested they return to the Normandy to get back on schedule, tracking down the remaining candidates for their squad, but apparently Shepard had other ideas. "Here we are," Shepard called out triumphantly, holding up her hand before Miranda's eyes. "I found this while you were tossing that one guy around the cargo lot earlier."

Miranda inspected the chain dangling from between Shepard's clenched fingers. A worn looking locket hung off the end, scratched and dirty. "Wow," Miranda offered. "That looks…cheaply made. I hope you weren't expecting to pawn that off for much."

Shepard chuckled heartily at her confusion. "No. Remember when we were heading through the shopping center to meet your contact?" She didn't wait for a response. "We overheard that asari on a comm looking for a token from her bondmate. I think I found it," she stated excitedly, clearly ecstatic with her good fortune at tracking down such a miniscule object. All it took was a raised eyebrow from Miranda for Shepard's hand to fall, her cheeks tinged pink in her embarrassment. "I thought we could, uh, try to go track her down again before we left. You know, return it to her."

"Yes," Miranda replied sardonically. "That will bring us one step closer to defeating the Collectors for good."

A smirk spread across Shepard's face. "No need for sarcasm, Miss Lawson. It's the lowest form of wit."

"Come on," Miranda relented with an over exaggerated sigh. "I know you're going to force me into it anyhow."

Shepard was sporting a full on grin now. "That's the spirit. We'll be committing our good deed for the day."

She took off towards the archway they had entered through not so long ago, heading for the elevator that would take them back towards the main plaza. Miranda fell into step behind her, finding a smile gracing her own lips. "Were you always this infuriatingly helpful, or did I mess that up during reconstruction as well?"

Shepard hummed in amusement as they moved forward together, but her expression seemed almost solemn. "Don't worry, I've been nosing into other people's business since the day I was born."

"You do seem to enjoy prying," Miranda replied wistfully as she pondered just what was on Shepard's mind.

A thoughtful expression crossed Shepard's face. "Does that bother you?" They had reached the elevator, and stood side by side as it lifted them skyward.

Miranda was silent for a moment as she debated between kindness and honesty. It was odd, how comfortable she found herself, how willing to tell the truth she had become. "Perhaps it did in the beginning." She offered a small smile. "I suppose I've grown accustomed to the intrusions over time given your persistence."

"Well," Shepard said teasingly with a shrug, "you know what they say about familiarity."

"It breeds contempt?" Miranda deadpanned.

Shepard let loose a hearty laugh at that. "I was shooting for 'liking', but to each her own I suppose."

The low drone of the elevator ceased as they reached their destination, and the doors opened to release them back into familiar territory. They had only been planetside for a little over two days and yet they were beginning to know the area quite intimately. Shepard lead the way as she retraced the steps they had taken earlier that day, hoping to bump into the asari or someone who would at least be able to point them in the right direction.

"After we deliver the pendant, there's a store I want to make a quick stop at," Shepard offered conversationally as they pressed on.

Miranda scoffed. "I'm going to take a stab in the dark and assume it won't be beneficial to our mission in any way."

Shepard grinned. "See? I'm glad we're really starting to get to know one another well."

She was shaking her head in exasperation, though Miranda found she really wasn't as bothered as she should be. "So what will we be purchasing?"

"Prejek Paddle Fish. I saw them at that store Memories of Illium. You know, that one with the asari and her krogan boyfriend?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I remember them." She laughed then. "I can't believe your main priority is buying as many fish as possible."

"Probably shouldn't have given me a luxury suite with a built in fish tank, huh?" Shepard shot back sharply, though the playful nature of her tone was clear.

"I hope you realize I wasn't personally in charge of designing your quarters," Miranda defended.

"No, I suspect there would be a lot more fancy reading material if you had been," Shepard mused as her mind wandered over to the stacks of binders, books, and datapads she usually found scattered about the various surfaces around Miranda's cabin upon entering.

"Do other people honestly find you humorous?" Miranda retorted without missing a beat.

"Less than I'd like," Shepard admitted with a smile. She opened her mouth to say more, but apparently interrupted her own thought process as she caught sight of their quarry across the room. "Look, she's still hanging around," she called back to her companion as she rushed on ahead.

Miranda felt an odd feeling of disappoint run through her as she trailed along. She wanted to hear what Shepard had to say, she had been pleased by their back and forth. Being there, dashing about Illium and causing a bit of mischief, she had actually been enjoying herself.

Miranda was having fun.

* * *

Shepard carefully held the plastic bag in her hands, gripping the knot at the top tightly with one while the other gingerly cupped the bottom. Three of the oddly shaped flat blue fish swam contentedly inside, waiting to be released into their new home. They had to move slowly, Shepard insisted, so as not to jostle their newest teammates around too much. Miranda found she didn't mind the pace they had set. For some reason, she found herself reluctant to return to the Normandy at all.

"I'll have to come up with names," Shepard mused quietly as they headed back to where their ship was docked. "That's always the hard part."

"You won't even be able to tell them apart," Miranda reasoned.

"Oh hush," Shepard scolded lightly. "A mother knows."

They passed through a doorway, and found themselves passing the stairs that lead up to Liara's office. Miranda slowed as she noticed Shepard glancing up. "Would you like to speak with her once more before we depart?"

Shepard paused mid step, clearly weighing her options. Miranda waited patiently for a response, finding herself actually invested in the answer. There was a part of her that wanted to curse herself for even asking. She didn't want to delay their mission any longer than they had too. She didn't want to wait around outside while Shepard spoke with the asari. She didn't want to be stuck there, stupidly holding the fish. She didn't want to hear that the two had managed to work things out.

She didn't want Shepard to _want _to talk to Liara.

_They _were talking. _They _were returning lost objects to grieving aliens and reuniting quarreling couples and buying overpriced fish. There was no reason for anyone else to be involved. Possessiveness raced through her.

"I don't know," Shepard said at last. "I shouldn't bother her. She probably is really busy."

Miranda's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't stop you from barging through _my _door whenever you please."

Shepard chuckled, though there was little actual mirth to be found in her eyes. "Yeah but you can't turn me away, dealing with me is a part of your job description." She shifted her weight from leg to leg, gripping the bag in her hands more tightly. "Anyway, I don't think it's a good idea."

Miranda hesitated, a question on her lips begging to be asked. She was scared. Miranda didn't want to offend Shepard. She didn't want to push her limits, to cross any boundaries.

She didn't want to know the answer, and she didn't quite understand why.

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

Shepard was surprised. Not by Miranda's bluntness, the woman was very to the point; she had grown used to that. It was her interest at all. Perhaps she believed the strained relationship could affect Shepard's mental state, which in turn would negatively impact the mission as a whole. Or perhaps it was something else altogether.

"Of course I still care about her," Shepard replied. "I just," she hesitated, "it's complicated."

Miranda felt her heart beat faster as she offered a meaningful look. She wanted Shepard to continue. She wanted to be the one secrets were trusted to, the one confidence was placed in.

"It's just, she was an archeologist," Shepard blurted out suddenly. "A shy, scholarly…" she shook her head, clearly crippled by shame. It didn't take long for Miranda to realize that this had been a long time coming. These words had been weighing heavily on Shepard's mind, she had been dying to let them out. "You know, I doubt she had a bad thought to think about anyone growing up. She was so innocent, so kind. I doubt she had ever pointed a gun at a living being, and then," Shepard faltered, swallowed hard, "and then she met me." Emotion rang through each word uttered. "God, look at her now."

Miranda glanced around uncomfortably. They were in the midst of an area heavy with foot traffic, and at the foot of the stairs belonging to the asari herself. Gently, she motioned with Shepard to move with her to a more secluded area, far from the information broker's place of business.

"I'm sorry," Shepard said as she followed. "I shouldn't have said that. Let's just get back on board, everyone is waiting for us." A crippling wave of mortification at the outburst was flushing through her cheeks ferociously.

"Wait," Miranda tried, feeling bold. She placed a reassuring hand on Shepard's arm, silently asking her to stay through touch. "Don't be embarrassed, please." She glanced down, eyes tracing the dirty tiles of the well traveled floor. "Shepard, today I trusted you with the single most important aspect of my life. I wish you would feel comfortable doing the same."

Shepard stared over at her, face softening at the admission. "It's not that I don't trust you, Miranda. Please, you have to believe that." Miranda glanced up, letting their eyes meet. "It's just me being stupid, that's all. I can't even explain what I'm feeling because I don't understand it myself. I don't think I'd be able to express it to you coherently at all."

"Try," Miranda pressed in an almost whisper.

Shepard gave her a pleading look, but Miranda stood fast. She couldn't force Shepard to reveal anything to her, but she wanted to prove to Shepard that she was willing to listen, that she was _worth _confiding in. Finally, a heavy sigh escaped Shepard's lips. "When we first met, I clung to her."

Miranda nodded, encouraging her to continue. Though she was obviously reluctant, Shepard obeyed. "I drew her into this world because I felt myself slipping deeper and deeper into the darkness. I was swept up into catching Saren, taken completely off guard by the whole ordeal." Her eyes fell to the floor as she admitted everything she promised herself she never would. "I was a soldier, Miranda. I followed orders and did my duty and served with dignity until suddenly the entire universe was on my shoulders." She audibly swallowed. "I was so scared," Shepard confessed after a lengthy pause. "Everyone was counting on me."

A soft smile spread across her face. "And then I met Liara. She was so _her. _Just talking to her, you knew there wasn't a single sin she was guilty of." Her eyes darted back up to meet Miranda's once more. "You don't meet people like that in this messed up universe, you know? It's not just rare, it's damn near impossible. But then there was Liara, and I couldn't stop myself from being selfish. I knew the way she felt about me, how much she admired me, and I fell in love with that." Suddenly a bitter laugh escaped her lips. "I went on my merry way, hunting down Geth, blowing up facilities, and smothering all of the darkness I'd been doing with her overwhelming light. Every death I caused could be solved by her innate sense of good because if someone like Liara T'Soni could love me then how could I possibly be doing wrong?"

There were a few moments of silence between them, and then Shepard continued sullenly. "I used her, and I lead her to this. What she's become, it's my responsibility." Miranda winced at the comment, she was well rehearsed with that sentiment. Shepard shook her head, shame overcoming her. "So yes, to answer your question, I do have feelings for her. I feel a hell of a lot of guilt."

Miranda took a step forward, having to fight hard to stop herself from physically reaching out. Shepard looked so distraught, so broken before her. "You can't do that to yourself," she tried lamely. "You can't force yourself to take responsibility for an adult making their own decisions."

Shepard gave her a guarded look. "I can when it was the decision to rescue me that brought her to this point."

"Shepard," Miranda practically sighed out, at a loss for what to do or say. She hated being so poor with situations such as these. The subtle nuances of comfort were so very foreign. She suddenly found herself longing for the days when none of this would have mattered to her, when she would have rolled her eyes and strutted off without a word. The days before Shepard.

"Sorry," Shepard apologized again, rubbing at the back of her neck with her free hand gently so as not to agitate her still healing wounds. "You don't have to say anything, I just needed to get that off my chest. Thanks."

"Wait," Miranda tried again. Shepard looked up at her expectantly, waiting for the rest of the sentence Miranda quickly realized she didn't have prepared. She shifted, panicking as she struggled to find the right words.

"Miranda, you don't have to-"

Shepard was cut off as Miranda moved closer, knowing she had to speak before she lost her nerve. "I understand. I get it. Guilt, responsibility…" her voice wavered as she trailed off, uncertain as to how Shepard would react to the information.

"Miranda," Shepard said sadly, concern etched across her features. A warmth spread through Miranda at Shepard's gaze. There was kindness in her eyes, a deep pool of compassion that she had the privilege of knowing was explicitly for her. "The things going on with me aren't your fault. You had no way of knowing the repercussions of bringing me back, you said so yourself." She hesitated, her eyes flickering away for a moment before courage drew their gaze back to meet Miranda's. "Before, you mentioned messing up during reconstruction. You don't really believe that, do you?"

Miranda's silence, the way she suddenly could not bring herself to hold Shepard's stare, those things were answer enough. Shepard shook her head sorrowfully, and reached her free hand out to place a gentle grip on Miranda's shoulder. "I don't. Not in the slightest." She let her grasp fall, her fingers trailing lightly down the length of Miranda's arm. Instead of pulling away like the rational part of her mind was begging her to, Miranda found herself leaning into the touch. Unconsciously, she moved forward, hardly registering the inappropriateness and utter unprofessionalism of the motion because miraculously, marvelously, Shepard seemed to be doing the same.

"I was gone, Miranda," Shepard's voice was an unsteady whisper, the ghost of its usual self. "Not just dead. Gone." She closed her eyes, warding away the unpleasant memories that threatened to arise. "There was no afterlife, no heaven I can remember. It was just empty. There wasn't even light or darkness, it was just nothing. An infinite void of nonexistence." Her eyes reopened and she found Miranda just inches away.

"You rescued me, remade me." Cautiously, she raised her hand again, ghosting her fingers along Miranda's cheek. She waited for the woman to pull away, but the moment never came. "All of the freak outs and breakdowns, they're nothing. They don't matter because all they mean is that I can feel. I can hurt again."

A weight lifted off Miranda as the words flowed through her because this was Shepard standing before her, telling her she wasn't angry. She wasn't bitter, wasn't resentful. She didn't hate Miranda for bringing her back.

She was _grateful_.

"I exist." Shepard gave a relieved chuckle at the notion, and as Miranda found the sound rather infectious at that moment, their breath mingled between them.

Suddenly, there was way too much going on to handle because Shepard was tantalizingly close and her hand had trailed along Miranda's skin until it reached the back of her neck, tugging her forward ever so slightly. Her mind was all but blank as she succumbed to the heat coursing within her, shifting forward to achieve that moment where their bodies _finally _met.

Except Shepard really should not have felt quite so _squishy_.

Reality weighed down upon them as Miranda pulled back slightly to glance down at the plastic bag that had gotten trapped between them. The fish inside were darting about quickly, panicking as their environment compressed around them. Immediately Shepard's touch disappeared and they stood paces apart, staring one another down, faces flushed, breathing heavy.

Shepard was the first to recover, swallowing hard while her eyes darted about the room almost nervously. "We uh, should get back, probably, like now." Her voice was tight, her words sharp and clipped. Miranda managed a nod, but little else as her mind swam with humiliation. Shepard backed away a few paces before turning and making for the docking bay with haste, apparently no longer caring just how jostled her purchase was. Miranda waited a bit before following, wanting to keep as much space between them as possible.

She hated how out of control she had felt, how instinctive her actions had been. She hated herself for being so completely idiotic and giving in. She hated Shepard for putting her in that position, for leading her so completely into that state. She hated how drained she felt, how entirely out of sorts she had become.

Most of all though, more than anything, she absolutely _despised _Prejek Paddle Fish.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: This chapter is so late it's **_scary_**! Ahaha..haha..ha…ha… *clears throat*

Sorry.

Hope you had a happy Halloween, kids.

* * *

In all honesty, everything only got a whole heck of a lot worse after that. There had been that hour or so after they had seen Oriana off safely where they traversed Illium, and everything had been looking up. There had been camaraderie and laughter, but now Miranda didn't know what she was supposed to be feeling. That ended up being quite disheartening in itself. She had been told how to act and what to say and how to feel for years, now she was given just a bit of free reign and she was floundering.

That's not to say she wasn't sure about what she _should _do, it was just that everything was getting more than a little jumbled in her mind of late. It would have been easy to smother her embarrassment and move on with her life if Shepard had been to blame, if her commander had been shamelessly pursuing her without cause, but that wasn't the truth of it. Miranda had pushed them to that point on Illium, had wanted to move forward, to claim more. It had been denied to her though, snatched away at the last moment.

It had seemed like a positive thing at first, a reality check. Crisis averted. Disaster prevented. Sure, it had been more than a little mortifying, but it had all played out for the best. Right?

Except not right, because those feelings, the rush of emotions Shepard's touch had conjured wasn't abating like she so desperately needed it to. Days were passing and yet it lingered on, an echoing and rather unsubtle reminder of what almost was. Where was she supposed to go from there?

Shepard wasn't exactly _avoiding_ her, Miranda was still being called upon for missions and tactical advice, but there was a definite shift between them. It wasn't the good sort of shift either, it was the downright frustrating sort.

They had rescued Tali together, had discovered the fate of Jacob's father and stood between Garrus and a target after reuniting Thane with his wayward son, and still they had never managed to really _talk_. Time was passing, and nothing of any real value was being said.

Most recently they had found themselves travelling through what was supposed to be a disabled Collector vessel. After the truth of the situation had been revealed, Miranda had waited to be turned on and thrown off the ship, but the anger at the Illusive Man's betrayal was never directed towards her. Shepard had never even questioned her in fact, despite Jack's rather vocal assertions, and Miranda unbelievably found herself almost annoyed by the thought. No matter how pleased she was to apparently hold Shepard's trust, she would never be okay with being blatantly ignored on a personal level.

Long gone were the days of quiet conversation and sharp banter uttered with practiced tongues. There was merely coexistence. Debriefings and orders. Professional requests and polite commands. Miranda found it nearly intolerable, and there were times she wanted to absolutely throttle the woman she had worked so hard to rebuild because Shepard had pulled away from the almost whatever-it-was that had happened on Illium. _She_ was the one who had darted back to the safety of the ship and refused to address the matter.

That was fine, given space and time Miranda could learn to live with that. The longing looks Shepard sent her way however needed to stop. The lingering glances, the meaningful stares, they were completely unfair. She couldn't just look at Miranda like that, eyes absolutely brimming with warmth and esteem, and expect everything to go back to the way it was. It was just ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

* * *

It was on her way back from speaking with Joker that Kelly called her over. Shepard nodded her understanding as she was informed that Samara had requested her presence, immediately making her way to the elevator. As it travelled slowly down a floor her mind wandered to all of the thoughts that had been plaguing her consciousness of late.

Miranda threatened to consume her, and she was running out of things to busy herself with. Not long after recruiting Tali to the cause the Illusive Man had sent them into a virtual death trap without hesitation, which managed to keep her distracted for quite some time. She had shared some colorful words with him afterwards, and then she had to go about soothing the various members of her squad. Their faith had been shaken, and it took some careful wording to bring a few back around to the cause.

Lately, she had found herself playing fairy godmother, running errand after errand for her crew. Healing familial rifts, fulfilling vengeance schemes, and guiding those who needed it through puberty with an awkward hand and a big gun. You name it, it was a service Commander Shepard provided.

Not once did she ever complain, no matter how inconvenient the request. She loved her squad, they were her family and she would do anything for them. And it didn't hurt that every minute she spent trailing a politician or facing down a thresher maw was a minute she could keep her mind off what had almost happened, and how much she wanted it to happen again.

Things couldn't carry on like that forever though, Shepard knew. She was running out of diversions very quickly and Miranda wasn't exactly about to disappear anytime soon. They needed to speak with one another, and then Shepard needed to find a way to distance herself without causing too great a rift in their working relationship because the strange emotions she was feeling were one's she couldn't afford to entertain.

There seemed to be a lot to Miranda. Every time Shepard managed to stick a label on her, the woman merely shrugged it off by letting another personal detail slip. 'Cold' had softened to 'driven' which had morphed almost unbelievably into 'compassionate', although it was a trait she apparently liked to hide. She was doing her best for Shepard, for everyone on the Normandy, even if they couldn't all see it.

It felt a little crazy to Shepard, if she were honest, because Miranda was there for business. Technically they all were on some level, but Miranda had orders to follow. She was there to make sure Shepard made it from A to B successfully, to keep her in line when she was feeling rebellious, and to pull her ass out of the fire when she became a little too brazen.

There was a voice in the back of Shepard's mind whispering the obvious. Miranda was being kind because those were her instructions. She was supposed to be calming Shepard down, wooing her on Cerberus' behalf. It was obvious; there was never any doubt about that in Shepard's mind. The Illusive Man would have been stupid _not _to ask for some sort of bond to be formed.

And yet, Miranda had still earned Shepard's trust. For whatever reason, she had become the person Shepard wanted to confide in. It had been her door the commander always found herself barging through whenever she saw fit. It was her presence Shepard found solace in.

That was why Shepard had to pull away from whatever was happening. Already she could feel it. She wanted to hear what Miranda had to say, she wanted to tease and be ridiculed in return. She was getting attached, and if she wasn't careful things would get messy fast.

Shepard had to remember the plan, the way of things.

Alliance good.

Cerberus bad.

Collect team.

Help Liara.

Stop Collectors.

Kill Reapers.

Save the day.

Retire early with what better be a sizable pension.

Take up a frivolous hobby.

Die.

Boom.

Done.

Piece of Cake.

And to start things off, she had to cancel out any wayward thoughts. That's how Shepard found herself outside Miranda's cabin door, because while she was right there, there really was no excuse whatsoever to avoid the conversation any longer.

* * *

"We really need to talk," Shepard said immediately as she burst through the doors, hardly giving Miranda a moment to process her almost dramatic entrance. Instantaneously she found herself regretting her decision, wishing she had visited Samara and then turned in early. She could have ignored Miranda until the end of the mission and then they would have gone their separate ways. But no, of course she had to go and be all personable and talk through her feelings.

Maybe Jack was right, she really was turning into a pussy.

Miranda stood, moving around her desk to face Shepard properly, leaving no barriers between them. She offered no response, but her expression made it clear that Shepard's intrusion had earned her the woman's undivided attention.

Shepard took a deep breath, steadying herself. It was simple, really. She had only spent just about every evening since thinking about how this confrontation would go. All Shepard had to do was focus. Look Miranda in the eyes and apologize for acting so inappropriately after gently explaining her responsibility to Liara. Easy.

"Whatever this is, it needs to stop." She managed those words calmly enough, but found her resolve wavering now that she was actually face to face with Miranda. It had been infinitely easier to run the speech through her mind throughout the long hours of the night, and she really wished the woman had stayed seated as usual. Having a desk between them probably would have helped with the whole focusing thing.

Miranda obviously was not yet inclined to speak, and so Shepard was forced to continue without pause. "This isn't a real thing," she finally managed, gesturing between them. "It can't be because-" She faltered, running a hand through her hair in frustration at how difficult this was turning out to be. "You said before that I have responsibilities, and you were right. This is just like," she wavered for a moment, looking for the correct word, "a distraction. I mean you're…you know?"

For her part, Miranda was silent. She didn't know. In fact, she had no fucking clue.

Groaning, positively exasperated at her own incompetence, Shepard's words rushed out quickly like an uncontrollable flood, "I have a commitment and I have to remember what's real because you're," she faltered, loosing herself again. "You're Cerberus," she finally stated the obvious stupidly as if that explained everything, not quite sure why she did.

Again, she groaned, raising a hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose as she tried to regain her composure. Miranda had yet to say anything, had not challenged her in the slightest, and yet she was flailing around like a moron. "It's just, you're just like this big distraction that came swooping in and I can't…there's not…I mean, it doesn't make sense for me to…I mean we both know none of this is genuine," she spluttered, losing the words she didn't have her whole heart behind. "It's all just been a big mistake," she finally tried with finality, though she was aware her statement sounded suspiciously like a question.

Her heart dropped as she studied her companion's reaction. The bewildered look gracing Miranda's beautiful features, the hurt she could see there, it was making her once passionate speech waver. The intention to push away morphed into the desire to pull closer, and Shepard found she couldn't control herself from doing just that.

Miranda's eyes widened as she was suddenly tugged into a tight hug, she was beyond simple confusion at that point, but she didn't stop it from happening. "I'm sorry," Shepard whispered quietly into the skin of her neck as she held their bodies firmly together. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that, it's not true."

She had to swallow before she could speak, the intimacy of the hold leaving Miranda feeling more than a little out of her element. "It's fine," she managed eventually. "It's okay." Warmth rushed through her at the contact and once again, she found herself unable to resist temptation as she relaxed into the embrace. Suddenly feeling bold, she closed her eyes and burrowed her face into Shepard's neck, finding herself relishing in the opportunity that she would likely never have again. Though it hadn't been easy to follow the rambling it was clear Shepard had come down only to push her away. She was only hurting herself, but in the moment Miranda found she didn't exactly care.

Shepard stiffened immediately at the contact, seemingly remembering herself. A weird feeling stirred in the pit of Miranda's stomach at that, something she recognized but did not want to acknowledge. Shepard was obviously thinking about the asari, about how what they were doing was wrong, and as much as she hated it, Miranda knew she was experiencing the first stirrings of envy. Since the beginning she had felt a sort of protectiveness over Shepard, and now, with this newfound development, that feeling was only expanding. Shepard had been _her_ responsibility,and then_ her_ friend, and now…

Losing herself to a sudden almost territorial urge, she pressed her lips to the exposed skin before her, savoring the shiver she earned in response.

"We can't do this," Shepard said softly, pulling back a bit to get a look at Miranda.

"I know," she replied honestly, though she refused to back off. It would be Shepard who stamped out this flame, not her.

And then Shepard was leaning forward, letting their foreheads bump together gently. "Miranda," she practically sighed out, the heat of her breath driving the woman in her arms nearly insane with impatience. It was going to happen, there was no doubt of that now, it was just a matter of Shepard forgetting her morals, her honor. She needed to give in. "I should go."

"Okay," Miranda responded easily, her lips quirking upward as Shepard's drew closer.

Their mouths met tentatively at first, moving gently, taking the exploration in slow measured steps, but then tongues were acquainted and any care was lost in the resulting explosion. They were frantic, needy, almost violent in their haste. It had been a slow burning fuse, Miranda realized then. One she hadn't wanted to admit to in the beginning, but it had always been there, steadily disintegrating day by day until this all consuming detonation.

Shepard's arms wandered her back, keeping her as close as she possibly could, reassuring Miranda that she wasn't alone, that these feelings were shared, a joint experience. They were nearly sloppy in their pace, teeth clashing almost painfully at times. It was a far cry from Miranda's smooth and calculated seductions of the past.

Her calves were hitting the edge of the bed before she even realized they had been making their way over. A flood of excitement coursed through her because this was new, it was electrifying. It was Shepard's weight hovering over her, pressing her gently into the mattress. Shepard's fingers tugging impatiently at the zipper of her uniform top, silently asking for more. This was Shepard, her commander, her project. They were breaking a dozen rules, they were women, by all rights given their loyalties they should be enemies. The thoughts exhilarated her. She didn't care about any of that. She didn't care about Cerberus or the Alliance. She didn't care if the crew realized something was going on between them. She didn't care about the Illusive Man sticking his nose into her business.

Shepard pulled her top open when it became clear Miranda was going to make no moves to resist, pausing to take the sight in for a few moments before recapturing the woman's lips with her own.

The Illusive Man could stick his nose into her business.

Miranda gasped into Shepard's mouth as she felt steady fingers dancing along the now exposed skin of her stomach, trailing fire in their wake.

The Illusive Man _was _sticking his nose into her business.

She pulled back, breathless. "The cameras," she managed at Shepard's curious expression, clearly winded. Her terminal, she had to get over to her desk and hack into the surveillance systems before things got out of hand.

"Cameras?" Shepard questioned quickly, eyes narrowed.

"You knew," Miranda asserted, confusion evident in her tone. "Mordin said-"

"Yeah, but in _your _cabin?" Shepard propped herself up on her elbows, effectively putting more distance between them.

"Of course." It was hard for Miranda to keep the frustration out of her voice. They were waiting too long, Shepard was being left with too much time to clear her head, she was starting to think clearly.

"Doesn't that bother you?" Shepard asked incredulously. She could never even imagine Miranda letting herself be observed like that for so long. The woman was so guarded, so private. Surely, she had at least put up a hell of a fight about it, unless the systems had been installed without her knowledge and she had discovered them on her own.

"No," Miranda answered quickly in a trained response. Then she hesitated for a moment, turning the truth over in her mind. "Maybe?" She rolled her eyes. "It was never a choice, it doesn't matter." They were losing it, Miranda could see it in Shepard's eyes. She was coming to her senses, guilt slowly seeping in. Her gaze was dull with the heavy weight of shame.

Shepard pulled back, shifting upright, kneeling on the bed. Resisting the urge to groan, Miranda brought her hands up to her face, letting everything sink in. They had been so close, but Shepard could never offer want Miranda wanted, it was over, it would never be happening again.

"Miranda, I'm sorry." Shepard ran a heavy hand through her hair. "I shouldn't have-" She shook her head, bewildered. "I didn't mean to-" She sighed and Miranda brought her hands down to pull at the sides of her top, reclaiming a bit of modesty. "I'm sorry." She was looking everywhere but at Miranda, clearly mortified at the thought of what she had let herself do. "That was really unfair to you."

Miranda leaned up on her elbows, offering a sympathetic smile. She had to be the bigger person, she had known where this would lead. Granted, she had expected to get just a bit more out of the experience, but she couldn't fault the other woman for her own indulgent fantasies being crushed."It's okay, Shepard," she said gently. "We've both been under a tremendous amount of stress. You don't have to be embarrassed about a physical thing." She shrugged, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. "It's not exactly the first time it's happened."

Finally, Shepard was looking at her again, an emotion Miranda couldn't fathom glowing fiercely in her eyes. Before she could react, Shepard was leaning over her once more, foreheads touching, noses brushing, breath mingling. "Is that what you think this is?" Shepard swallowed, squeezing hers eyes shut tightly. "Miranda, I-" She let out a humorless laugh. "How could you say that? You're so-"

"Please," Miranda whispered hoarsely, fighting to keep any sort of space between them she could as her heart began to pound. Whatever Shepard wanted to say she couldn't let her, she couldn't bear to hear it, not when it was already so obvious the woman had made her choice. "Please don't."

Shepard's eyes reopened and her gaze was searing, it made her skin flush and her mind beg for escape. It was too much, too fast. This wasn't real, couldn't be. These things didn't happen to her, she didn't have these feelings. It was wrong, a fleeting moment in the vast expanse of the universe, something that was ending before it really began. There was only pain down that road.

"Please don't say things you can't mean."

A dozen emotions flooded through Shepard, ones she had never experienced before, ones she had no name for. To have Miranda beneath her, beautiful, brilliant Miranda saying those words with such conviction, it was almost numbing. "My father hurt me," she had told Shepard not so long ago, "but he didn't break me."

And yet here she was, confusion overwhelming her features, pain etched into every word. She was lying there, half naked on the bed, so ready to believe in her physical beauty. The thing that man had given her, had forced upon her, that was what she had faith in. The things she had crafted herself, the person she had spent her lifetime creating, that didn't make sense to her. That wasn't what Shepard was after, it _couldn't _be. Miranda truly believed that, Shepard could see it in her eyes, and it made her heart positively ache.

"Miranda, you're-"

"Don't," she reiterated, letting her voice sour to ensure Shepard would be properly dissuaded. "Please don't."

Feeling the chill Miranda had intended, Shepard offered a curt nod. "I uh," she stumbled over her own words as she backed away once more, this time sliding off of the bed completely and onto her feet. "I should go." She let out a shaky laugh. "For real this time."

"Okay," Miranda repeated, though her face bore no smile this time around. She pulled herself up, sliding along the mattress to sit up and put some extra distance between them. The hot weight of embarrassment was starting to descend, and more than anything Miranda wanted Shepard to leave.

She seemed hesitant to depart however, and Miranda crossed her arms tightly around herself, unsure of how that made her feel. If Shepard really did care about her in any way shape or form she would leave before things got any worse.

No, Miranda corrected herself sullenly, she would be with her on the bed.

And then, suddenly, her brief moment of sulking turned to anger. Real anger, not the simple irritation she flirted with on most occasions. This anger was hot, fierce. She could taste it's bitterness on her tongue, hear it's ringing in her ears, and it was justifiable. Wasn't it?

Maybe she wasn't openly loving like the asari. Maybe she was guarded and cold at times. Maybe she was the poster child for an organization whose morality could only be described as ambiguous at best. Maybe when you stripped away the layers of professionalism and duty and troubled past there wasn't much left to discover, but she was _trying _wasn't she? It just wasn't fair because oh how she was trying.

Shepard had to see that, she just had to. Everything had been cold and isolating and infuriating and then there had been Shepard. A comrade, a friend. Someone to trust. A person to believe in again.

That didn't matter though, because Shepard had already inadvertently spelled out the truth for her. Miranda was damaged, tainted. She wasn't pure or innocent. The things that had pulled Shepard to Liara were the things Miranda never could be. She was bitter and distrustful and jaded, and Miranda knew with a horrible clarity that she was never going to be anyone's saving grace. There was no great healing light within her. She had to come to terms with the fact that she wasn't the things Shepard needed her to be.

"Well?" Miranda sighed out while offering Shepard a pointed look. If Shepard didn't leave soon she could not be held accountable for her actions. She wasn't exactly sure where they stood yet but she found herself unable to care. Space, that was what she needed. Space to work, and think, and get over this little bump in the road. She could do it, se had certainly overcome much more.

Smoothing out the rumpled top of her uniform with an unsteady hand, Shepard cleared her throat while wearing an almost sheepish expression. She had been lingering, not exactly sure what she was waiting for. Her mind and heart were at odds, warring within her. Shepard wasn't a cheat, that just wasn't how she operated. But then, the weird pull she felt towards Miranda, it was something she had never felt before, something she was loathe to deny.

Not to mention that beyond all of those feelings, she wasn't exactly keen to desert her friend. Miranda was clearly distraught, Shepard could practically hear the wheels turning in the woman's mind. It felt so wrong to be the cause of all of the trouble, all of the uncertainty, and then just scamper away without a backwards look. She didn't really have a choice though. Her decision had been made clear and it was obvious Miranda was eager for solitude. She had to respect that.

"Right," she finally managed. "Sorry. Samara was looking for me anyways, so I need to head over there anyhow." Taking a few steps backward towards the door, Shepard offered a hesitant smile. "We can, uh, talk later, if you want." She winced. "We don't have to though. I mean, it's up to you."

Miranda flushed, the last thing she wanted to do was sit down and have a heart to heart about the whole thing. Especially considering she still couldn't quite get a grasp on what exactly was going on. Still, she knew talking through issues was sort of Shepard's forte, current rambling session notwithstanding.

Unable to decide whether she would genuinely be up for the task or not, Miranda settled for being vague and noncommittal. "Fine."

Nodding, Shepard finally departed, and instantly Miranda was on her feet, readjusting her clothing as she made for her desk. There would be time for sorting herself out later. For now, there were systems to hack and footage that needed manipulating.

* * *

A/N: what a hot mess my ladies be. I do love my Shep but good god can she be a little shit sometimes.

So, next two chapters are done-ish. Just need to dot my 'I's and cross my 't's. Just wanted to warn you guys, they are straight up crack. I just felt really silly last night and rolled with it. I've always been rather childish at heart, so uh, don't expect any serious dramatic stuff from me…ever… just roll with it, and hopefully have a laugh or two.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N:Oh my gosh you guys, your reviews are so very kind sometimes I can't even believe it. I'm so very glad you are having fun with me! Let us carry on my lovelies.

It's been brought up multiple times now so, yes, there will be a lair of the shadow broker chapter(s?) and bits and pieces have already been written a few days ago so no worries there. Anywho, this was supposed to be two chapters of silliness but I mashed it into one big one. I think they would have felt a bit cheap separated, considering they're filled with cheap gags, so hopefully I solved that by combining them.

* * *

Shepard moved into the room quietly, keeping her eyes trained on the floor. It was second nature to her at this point, something she did whenever she visited the observation room to speak with its inhabitant. She wasn't sure how Samara would react if she ever had one of her little episodes, but she didn't want to find out.

"Shepard," Samara's serene voice sounded, breaking the woman out of her musings, "you are troubled."

Lips quirking up into a smirk, Shepard moved forward. When she reached the meditating asari, she sat down beside her, crossing her legs and making sure she was turned far enough towards her friend to avoid getting a significant view of the window. "I haven't even said anything yet."

"I can feel unease in the air around you," Samara offered cryptically by way of explanation as the blue haze of biotic aura surrounding her vanished. She turned her head to scrutinize the much younger woman. "Where do you find your thoughts?"

Shepard chuckled heartily, leaning forward. "All over the place." She shook her head, bemused at the current state of affairs. It really was ridiculous. There were the Geth and the Collectors and the Reapers, and yet she found herself moping about the ship as she lamented the complications of her love life. Or, if she were being honest, lack thereof.

Still, try as she might to focus on the big picture, her foolish indulgences felt important. She was captivated by Miranda, she wanted to learn more, to delve deeper. It felt right, like it made sense.

Shaking her head, Shepard cleared her throat. "I came to hear you out though, so it hardly matters. What's on your mind, Samara?"

Samara seemed to be sizing Shepard up with a piercing gaze. It made the commander want to pull away, to hide herself and burry all of her deepest secrets far from reach. There was so much wisdom in those eyes, so much understanding of life. In that moment, Shepard was sure there wasn't a question in the universe Samara didn't know the answer to.

"Why do you do what you do, Shepard?" Samara asked quietly. "Why does this ship combat the Collectors?"

Shepard's brow furrowed as she tried to catch the asari's meaning. How could that even be a question? "To protect the colonists from being taken. To stop the Collectors from being able to aid the Reapers in any way."

The ghost of a smile appeared on Samara's face for only a moment before vanishing. "Why resist the Reapers?"

Shepard's face scrunched up in absolute confusion at that. "To protect all known life in the universe?"

Samara nodded. "Do you ever resent them, Shepard? All of the people you lay your life on the line to defend, do you ever watch them scurrying around with their mundane tasks and become filled with anger?"

Blinking at the abrupt change of topic, Shepard felt a rush of guilt flood her. Of course she had, it was near impossible not to. She had dedicated her life to the Alliance, had put her soul into protecting civilians and did so with pride. Sometimes though, she'd overhear a conversation. Sometimes a bratty teenage girl would be talking a classmate down in a cafe or a man would be complaining about how boring he found his job and hot blood would pump through her veins as she struggled to bite her tongue because she had long since lost count of how many bodies she'd seen, how many lives had been taken before her eyes. They had no idea how much was sacrificed to keep them safe, they were stuck in a world full of trivial events that they constantly claimed were important.

Samara did not wait for a response, it seemed as though she had known the answer before she had even formed the question. "Out here in the vast abyss of space, civilization often feels inconsequential, does it not? And yet, that is why we remain. We protect our kin and their right to the mundane. For children to go to school, for mothers to shop, for everyone to gossip, we lay down our lives. Reading, writing, experiencing, talking, laughing, those are the things we protect, the things worth saving."

She paused, her eyes flickering to the window she sat in front of, taking in the view with silent admiration as though it were her first time witnessing the universe's beauty. "I have travelled for many years, Shepard. Sometimes I have lost sight of that truth. It is my wish that you do not."

Shepard stared on silently, unsure of how to react. She felt honored at the sentiment. Someone like Samara offering such words so freely truly was a humbling experience. Still, she found herself just a bit lost. How they had broached this topic, she was not quite sure.

"Many have found that though it may feel indulgent, engaging in the very privileges you seek to protect can strengthen one's resolve."

Head tilted to the side with obvious curiosity, Shepard finally spoke. "I find that to be an odd sentiment, coming from someone who willingly relinquished all material possessions."

Samara was smiling now. "I spoke from the point of view of a soldier, not of my own, though I do find my own truth in those words. I do not know what troubles you, Shepard, but I hope something soon grants you peace." Her head turned so that her eyes could once again find Shepard's. "Now, as to why I have requested your presence…"

* * *

Getting Morinth's attention had been the easy part. Shepard was chivalrous and bold, nothing out of the ordinary. It was day to day stuff up until the asari beckoned her over. That's when the real challenge hit.

Shepard was rather charismatic, she could charm almost anyone into following her led, and yet when it came to the subtleties of romantic encounters, she usually found herself floundering. She was a soldier; it hardly came naturally to her. That was one of the reasons she had always believed Liara and her had been drawn together, they were equally awkward in their advances.

"Why don't you come sit with me?" Morinth asked her, her words laced with suggestive intent. "I've got a booth over here in the shadows."

"Woah," Shepard chuckled, awkwardly. Already she felt out of her element, like she was walking into something she would _never _be prepared for. "How ominous," she murmured to herself quietly.

They spoke for a bit, and Shepard tried her hardest to drop the names of everything she learned from their miniature investigation earlier, but it was difficult to discuss topics she knew nothing about. Luckily, Morinth seemed so absorbed in her own mutterings about power and strength that she hardly noticed how often Shepard was stumbling over her words and trailing off.

Somehow, she managed to pull it off convincingly enough that Morinth lead her back to the apartment she was staying in. Shepard could only pray that Samara was close behind.

* * *

Miranda glanced up, more than a little taken aback at the identity of her current guests. Garrus and Tali stood before her desk, looking very out of place in her cabin. Never before had either of them willing sought her presence, and though her relationship with Garrus had been fairly affable thus far, Tali had made her distrust known. It wasn't something Miranda found she could fault the quarian for either.

"What can I do for you?" She tried carefully, scanning their postures subtly for any inclination of aggression or anger. Though it happened infrequently, the few times she had been with other members of their squad without Shepard present they had been more forward with any feelings of animosity.

Okay, so maybe that was mostly Jack, but still, it never hurt to be cautious.

It was Garrus who spoke up. This had been Tali's idea, but she had warned him beforehand that she would not be asking Miranda for any personal favors anytime soon. "What is Shepard doing?"

Miranda stiffened, she hadn't even been thinking about that. She was so caught up in her own feelings that when Joker announced their touchdown on Omega she hardly gave it a second thought. Naturally, assuming that Shepard would hardly be asking her along on any missions after their little display of deplorable self control, she reasoned that Shepard had merely been doing whatever Samara had bid entailed and decided to leave her behind.

"I believe Samara had a request for her," she tried after a moment.

Tali noticeably reacted to the statement while Garrus let out something akin to a groan. "We know that, yes." He seemed to hesitate. "She didn't say what it was though?"

Miranda pursed her lips, loathe to admit she had not been informed about their even _being_ a mission, let alone what it involved. "She didn't," she admitted after a moment. "Is there something I should be concerned about?"

Garrus and Tali shared a look before the turian answered. "No," he shifted about on his feet, sounding less than confident in his response. "We just asked if she needed any backup and her responses were pretty vague. I've never seen her leave without a full squad before, but it was probably just a quick-"

That caught Miranda's attention. "Who's groundside?"

"Samara and Shepard." There was a short silence. "You didn't know?"

It was then that Tali decided to speak up. "I thought everything went through you?"

The challenge in the question was clear, and Miranda found herself having to bite back a defensive retort. With a steadying breath, she spoke out, ignoring Tali's obvious attitude altogether, "EDI?"

Ever reliable, the AI responded instantly, "Yes, Operative Lawson?"

"What did Samara and Shepard discuss earlier in the observation room?" She tried not to let her concern creep through into her words.

"The Commander and Samara discussed a personal issue," EDI responded dutifully, if not sounding a tad evasive.

Miranda blinked. Could an AI _be _evasive? "Which was?" she pressed.

There was an unexpected pause before she received a reply. "Samara wished the topic to remain private."

Miranda's eyes narrowed at the blatant insubordination being expressed, by a machine no less. Tali did little to try and hide her snicker. "EDI," she said warningly, fighting to keep hold of what little patience she had left, "tell me what we are doing on Omega."

Again, there was a short wait before EDI almost reluctantly responded, as her programming forced her to follow any of Miranda's commands. "Samara requested Shepard's assistance in detaining a criminal by offering herself as bait. It was her belief that this particular individual would find the commander enticing enough to be lulled into submission to ease her capture."

Miranda felt a stab of anger as she recognized that the AI was still obviously trying to keep information from her. Before she could press further however, Garrus decided to interrupt, "Wait, like a seduction mission?" He looked positively mortified.

"Precisely," EDI replied in her usual melodic manner.

"Is that a problem?" Miranda pressed, growing concerned at Garrus' clear unease.

"Samara was looking for help with a seduction mission and she went to Shepard? Commander Shepard." He looked like he was caught between wanting to laugh and cry. "Clearly Samara is new here."

Miranda's brow furrowed in confusion. "Do you think there will be a problem?"

Tali let out a laugh. "Shepard can handle herself, she'll be fine. I just hope Samara wasn't looking for her to be successful in her, uh, endeavor."

Garrus chuckled. "Our commander may be a good shot, but she's not much of a smooth talker."

Well, after the display only a few hours earlier Miranda could certainly attest to that.

* * *

Shepard squirmed in her seat, as things were quickly getting out of hand. Morinth was close, dangerously close, and she was getting suspicious. Samara should have busted in by now, and Shepard's obvious reluctance to engage in any physical activity was clearly confusing the asari.

Morinth pushed harder, moving onto Shepard's lap, pinning her onto the couch between her thighs. Her arms trailed up along Shepard's neck and she drew closer, their breath mingling in the air between them.

"Why don't we uh, talk for a bit?" Shepard tried quickly. "I like talking, talking is good. So where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't." Morinth's lips were on her neck, and she all but squeaked in alarm.

"Right of course, hence the talking thing. Clearly we should do more of that." She tried to pull away, offering a slight chuckle. "After all, I'd like to know you as a person."

"Actually," Morinth pulled back, eyes narrowed with a smug smirk on her face, "I was looking more for a one night type of deal."

"Right, okay, yeah. Me too, of course." Shepard flushed. "That's me, love em' and leave em'. Yup."

It was obvious that her host was growing irritated with the constant interruptions. "Why don't we talk about something a little _sexier?_"

Her fingers trailed along the bottom of Shepard's uniform top, and she panicked. "You know, uh, you know what _I _think is sexy?" She asked frantically, keeping the top pinned down with trembling hands. "Wearing clothes. Mmm, yup. That's good."

Morinth paused for a moment, looking almost bewildered before her expression hardened once more. There would be no access into the woman's mind unless she were relaxed and willing. "You seem a little tense." She dismounted Shepard, who then sighed in relief as quietly as she could manage. Morinth went over to the table by the couch and returned quickly, "Hallex?"

Shepard glanced down at the offering, hating everything about this entire situation.

Worst.

Mission.

Ever.

By far.

She knew she needed to stay alert, but not an hour ago she had been sitting beside Morinth in the club raving about how much she enjoyed Hallex and how often she used it. If she said no now, she could be in serious trouble with no way to defend herself. If Morinth got suspicious she could kill her with her biotics in a second, Shepard would not stand a chance. Her only hope was to put her faith in Samara.

And so, she said yes.

* * *

"Hands are like the weirdest," Shepard said serenely as Morinth relieved her of her top. She sat on the couch in her bra, completely oblivious to the danger she was in. "All of these different species and yet almost everyone's got two and they're all like woooooooah."

Morinth shook her head, annoyed. She preferred it so much more when her conquests were coherent; she relished the look in their eyes when they realized what was about to happen to them. Still, she wasn't so picky she'd pass up an opportunity that was so willingly presenting itself. "Why don't you just be quiet now," she said softly, positioning herself in Shepard's lap comfortably, "We're getting to the best part."

Shepard's face lit up in delight. "We are?" She looked around the room expectantly for something exciting. Best parts for her usually meant something sinister needed to be shot. Morinth ignored the childlike behavior, eyes darkening as she leaned in close.

Suddenly the door burst open and Shepard's savior arrived, though she had long forgotten she had been expecting one by that point. "Samara," she cried out, positively ecstatic. Her arms were thrown up in the air triumphantly at her friend's timely arrival, and she peered over Morinth's shoulder sporting a beaming smile. "You're so lucky you came just in time for the best part. I dunno what it is but I think it's going to be _pretty _fantastic."

* * *

Miranda was waiting in the CIC when Samara trudged in, supporting Shepard by the waist and practically dragging her along. Shepard appeared unharmed, yes, but something was clearly off. She stumbled as she was forced along, her gaze wandering about the room and a look of wonder in her eyes. When she noticed Miranda, she beamed warmly.

"You came out of your room," She shouted, exhilarated. Samara winced as the sound nearly shattered her eardrums with Shepard's proximity. "All hands on deck," she screeched.

Miranda's eyes widened. "Is she drunk?" She had never known Shepard to be so careless as to drink while trying to complete a mission. Shepard sniggered at the question, though Miranda was unsure why.

"Drunk in a funk like an unemployed skunk," she sang happily.

"Hallex," Samara said simply, grunting under Shepard's weight to encourage Miranda to give her a hand. "She'll be fine in a few hours, it just needs time to wear off."

Miranda stepped forward to assist the Justicar, moving to Shepard's free side and wrapping an arm around the woman's waist. Clearly feeling the opposite of shy, Shepard slung an arm around Miranda's shoulder, and Samara took the opportunity to slink away sneakily. Shepard had been positively grating on the journey back, and though she felt immense gratitude towards the woman she was absolutely dying to escape, at least until she had come back to her senses and they could converse properly. "Right so, if I were you I would bring her upstairs then," she said, backing towards the elevator quickly. "She needs rest."

Miranda's mouth fell open. "Wait but-" but the asari was long gone. She had been deserted with Shepard, and now she had to wait for the elevator to bring Samara to the lower deck and return back up to them on top of it.

_Fantastic._

This went along just swimmingly with her plan to avoid Shepard for as long as she was humanly able. Honestly, things were getting beyond ridiculous. Obviously she wasn't a _saint, _but surely she had done nothing to deserve the intricate string of misfortune she had found herself tangled in of late. The only upside was that Shepard seemed unfazed by the development, so at least she would not be subjected to any awkward silences and meaningful pauses. She had quite enough of that, thank you.

The elevator was on its way back up to them when Shepard began her song. Miranda had no way of knowing then that it would be the first of many that evening. "Miranda's like a panda," she sang cheerily. "On my veranda, with lot's o' sand-da. Who's that?" She halted her tune abruptly, as though waiting for a reply, before she finished on a high note. "It's Miranda, and she can-da, do the stuff for her job."

_Bloody fantastic._

* * *

"Why are the Reapers?" Shepard questioned mysteriously as Miranda dragged her into the captain's cabin with difficulty.

She groaned, it was just another in a long line of incoherent questioning she had suffered on the elevator journey up. "Why are the Reapers what?" Miranda said, humoring her charge reluctantly.

Shepard shrugged, gazing at the woman beside her intently. "Just why?"

Miranda blinked, and then sighed heavily. "I think it's time for bed, Shepard." She lead her over towards the lower area, making sure to take the descent down the short couple of steps slowly. She paused by the fish tank for just a moment to glare at the Paddle fish swimming peacefully inside.

_Ah, my old adversaries_.

She reached up with the arm that wasn't supporting Shepard and got an admittedly sick sense of pleasure by tapping the glass and watching them dart away in fear before moving on.

"I don't want to go to sleep," Shepard pouted as she was guided forward. "I want to stay up."

"Honestly, I don't really care what you do," Miranda shot back, as she dumped Shepard unceremoniously onto the mattress. "Just don't cause any trouble." She hated it, but she knew she would have to stay and keep an eye on Shepard until she either passed out or the drug wore off, she couldn't let the woman hurt herself. It was likely she was on thin ice as it was. The last thing she needed was to have to report back that Shepard had cracked her skull open after tripping over some furniture in her drugged up stupor.

"Trouble's my middle name, and there ain't nothing you can do about it." Shepard glared at her from where she lay sprawled on the mattress, the usual emotion found in her eyes hazed by the influence of Hallex in her system. It was almost unsettling to look at, reminiscent of the way Shepard looked in the moments she was taken back to the destruction of the original Normandy.

"Poor me," Miranda replied after collecting herself, rolling her eyes as she took a seat on the couch where she could keep an eye on the woman more comfortably.

Shepard sat up suddenly, glancing about the room as she remembered something that only held importance to herself. "Where's Morinth? We're gonna play a game."

Miranda crossed her arms and tilted her head. "Morinth?"

"Yeah, Samara's daughter." Shepard gave her a knowing look. "She's a little evil and is probably in the shadows."

Miranda raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat as she absorbed the information. "Well that's concerning." It was hardly her business to pry into now that the whole debacle was over and no harm had come to either of the woman involved, but Miranda could not help her curiosity. If Shepard was going to babble out every secret she had ever been trusted with in this state, Miranda was certainly not going to stop her.

"I'll say," Shepard responded sagely with a nod. "Do you ever sit in the shadows?"

She couldn't help but smile at the sincerity of the question. "I can't say it's my _favorite _pastime."

"No. I know what that is." Shepard's nose scrunched up in disgust. "Reports," She spat the word out as if it were a foul food. "All work and no play makes Miranda no fun."

That earned a chuckle. "Ouch."

"You're hurt?" Shepard's eyes were wide, her words filled with concern.

"No, Shepard." Miranda offered her a gentle smile. "Why don't you go ahead and lay down?"

Shepard's eyes narrowed and she sat cross legged on the bed, hands on her hips. "I lay down when I want to lay down."

"I'm sorry, my mistake," Miranda said sweetly with false sincerity.

Suddenly Shepard burst into a fit of laughter and fell onto her back. "Don't miss your steak," she screeched with gusto.

Miranda winced at the shrill sound. "Why don't we try using inside voices?"

Shepard ignored her and began humming happily to herself. Miranda suffered through the out of tune jingle for quite some time before Shepard stopped suddenly and lifted her head to glare at her. "Let me tell you a secret," she whispered conspiratorially.

With a shake of her head, Miranda leaned forward, figuring that with her luck lately if she didn't play along Shepard would throw a tantrum or something equal irritating. "What is it, Shepard?"

"Come here," she motioned frantically. "It's important."

"I'm fine over here, thanks," Miranda answered instantly, absolutely refusing to fall into that trap. No willingly walking into another disaster waiting to happen for her.

"No," Shepard practically wailed at the rejection. "You have to listen to me."

And there was the tantrum.

Groaning, Miranda stood and moved over until she sat on the edge of the mattress. "What?"

"What?" Shepard tilted her head confused.

"What is it?" Miranda pressed.

"What is what?" Shepard looked excited at the prospect of learning something new.

Miranda took a deep breath, reminding herself to be patient, that Shepard wasn't in her right mind and throttling her wouldn't be a smart thing to do. Satisfying, yes, but not smart. "What is the secret?" she clarified as calmly as she could.

Shepard's face lit up with uncontained enthusiasm. "There's a secret?" She shouted out.

"I hate you so much," Miranda murmured quietly to herself. Shepard heard though, and her face fell.

"What did I do?" She looked positively crushed.

Miranda bit her lip, feeling guilty. "Nothing, Shepard, I don't hate you." She decided to get them back on task, knowing that if they kept this up she would be going to bed very late that night. "I would really appreciate it if you could get some rest though, okay?"

Shepard squirmed about the bed for a moment. "No, that's boring."

Sighing, Miranda moved beside her, positioning herself comfortably on the mattress. "Try," she pressed.

Shepard moaned, but she lay properly next to Miranda as she was told. "You try too."

"I have to stay up here until I know you're asleep, Shepard," she said gently. "I'll go to sleep downstairs as soon as you do."

Shepard sat up, alarmed. "I have to sleep downstairs?"

"No," Miranda tugged her back down by the arm, laughing despite herself. "Just lie down and relax."

Shepard did as she was bid, turning on her side to look at Miranda as the woman beside her did the same. "Morinth was scary," she said suddenly. "I like Samara better."

"I never had the pleasure," Miranda said with a smile, "but I'm sure I would have to agree."

"Smart choice," Shepard replied, nodding her approval. "You're smart." Miranda was going to respond but Shepard wasn't done. "And nice."

She laughed again at that. "I think there are a couple of people around here who would disagree with you on that."

Shepard either didn't grasp the comment or decided to ignore it completely. "Sorry I'm so crazy," she sighed out suddenly, her eyes drifting shut in the process.

Miranda smiled, glad the woman finally seemed to be cooperating. "I told you already, Shepard, I don't think you're crazy." She hesitated for just a moment, and then carried on, "Maybe a bit right now, but not generally, no."

"I should invest in a hat," Shepard said suddenly, eyes opening once more.

Miranda stared at her in disbelief, completely thrown for a loop. "A hat?"

"Would you like one too?" She leaned in close, whispering intently about her fiendish plot. "I can make that happen. They let me control the credits you know." Her eyebrows waggled foolishly. "I have connections."

"I'll pass thanks," Miranda replied with a chuckle, unable to stop herself from playing along. "But I really appreciate you willing to stick out your neck for me like that."

Shepard hummed happily at her response, though Miranda found herself unsure as to why. "One day we will have hats, and everything will be just right." She offered a dreamy sigh. "I can't wait."

Miranda bit her lip, fighting hard to hold back her laughter. "Me neither," she managed to reply with at least some semblance of severity in her tone, even if it was incredibly forced.

"Bats in hats," Shepard added with a nod. "The cure for all."

"What?" Miranda blinked in confusion before rolling onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. The shutters were closed, blocking the window that opened out into the stars. Shepard always kept it that way, for obvious reasons, something Miranda understood but couldn't quite get behind herself. She always closed up the windows in her room whenever Shepard visited out of courtesy, but they were opened as soon as the woman left. There was something about open space that soothed her. It made her feel minuscule, alone, which in her life often spelled safety. "That doesn't make any sort of sense, Shepard."

"Makes more sense than other stuff," Shepard defended quickly, mimicking her companion's position while throwing her hands behind her head.

"What stuff?" Miranda pressed, though she didn't expect a truly coherent answer.

"Stuff that makes less sense," Shepard clarified with conviction.

Miranda thought about that for a moment. "Well I can't really argue that."

Shepard burst into a fit of giggles. "Let's stay up forever."

"You need to go to sleep," Miranda maintained, feeling a bit like a nanny trying to coax their charge into napping. "You'll feel better in the morning."

"I hate sleeping." The pout plastered on Shepard's features was frustratingly endearing.

A surge of curiosity passed through Miranda. She weighed her options for a moment. Shepard was being totally open with her, uttering every nonsensical thought that made its way through her brain. In theory, Miranda could get a lot out of this opportunity. If it would be an ethical tactic or not, well that was another story.

Perhaps if she guided Shepard, but didn't outright push her, that would be acceptable, yes? Never force the information, but accept it when it was freely offered. There was nothing wrong with that in the slightest.

Having convinced herself, Miranda licked her lips before choosing her question carefully. "Why? Because of your dreams?"

Out of the corner of her eye she watched Shepard's brow furrow. "They keep changing. I don't like it."

"How?" She coxed quietly.

"The ship," Shepard mumbled, clearly getting a bit agitated.

"The ship changes?" Miranda pressed. Shepard had been tiptoeing around discussing her dreams for quite some time, having the answer finally within reach left Miranda a bit excited.

"This ship," Shepard sighed out reluctantly. "And the people."

"The new crew is there?"

"And Mordin." Shepard's voice was quiet, sullen even. "There's Jacob and Grunt and Jack and you and everyone." She paused for a moment, and then her nose scrunched up in disgust as though she had tasted something bitter. "I hate it."

"Do you want to explain to me what happens?" The question was asked more gently than the rest as a feeling of guilt had begun to stir in Miranda. If Shepard was in her right mind she wouldn't have wanted to answer these questions, it would be wrong to push any further.

"No."

Despite her disappointment, Miranda smirked. Even incapacitated Shepard was still far too stubborn to willingly show weakness. "Okay," she replied honestly. "You don't have to." For a moment, her thoughts got away from her. She let herself wonder if Liara were there in her shoes, would Shepard be so reluctant to express her troubles. Would she still pull away? Or, would she share herself with the asari completely?

Miranda shook her head, clearing her mind. Bitterness would get her nowhere. She didn't want to be stuck in the past, living with resentment so strong it left her unable to enjoy even their friendship. If that was the extent of what Shepard was offering, she would gladly take it. The rest would fade in time.

She waited a couple of minutes for Shepard to respond before realizing the woman had apparently begun to doze off. Well, her curiosity was far from sated, but at least Shepard was asleep. Carefully, Miranda righted herself into a seated position, sliding slowly along the mattress so as not to disturb it too much and jostle Shepard awake. She had both feet on the ground before long, practically home free. Tentatively, she stood.

"Miranda?"

Biting back a groan, she turned on her heels to face Shepard, who was still lying down, though her eyes were wide and full of childlike curiosity. "What do you need, Shepard?" Miranda asked gently.

"What's your opinion on grapes?"

With a defeated sigh, she settled back down beside the woman who she had remade to be an inspiring commanding officer. Obviously a few things had gone wrong.

"I like the purple one's best," Shepard offered conversationally.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

A/N: I poked a bit of fun at the "I've got a booth over here in the shadows." line. Morinth was such an interesting concept and her "and they call me a monster" line made me really emotional. It was an incredibly powerful moment. It was such a shame the rest of her dialogue was so laughable. Honestly, I can't take the first half of that mission seriously at all.

Anywho, thanks for humoring me guys. I was feeling indulgent and selfishly just had fun for my own sake :p But, hopefully you guys enjoy the next chapter if you know what I mean *suggestive wink*

I don't know why I did that, I'm sorry. No more winking.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Wow, can I just say that I love how much personality you guys all put into your reviews? It really is just fantastic how much I end up laughing. Thank you so much.

Oh my god cloudedwater I _hated _Miranda with a passion the first time often screeching "oh boo hoo your life is sooooo hard". I don't really know what happened but randomly on my second playthrough I did a complete one eighty and started clawing at her door while singing 'Come to me my melancholy baby'. Ugh. I have way too many feelings.

* * *

Shepard had spent the last ten or so minutes lying completely still, breathing shallow, eyes wide. Miranda was there, in her bed, sleeping peacefully as though it were the most ordinary occurrence in the known universe.

It most certainly wasn't.

She was stuck, literally. Shepard didn't want to move for fear of waking her companion up, as that was sure to be incredibly awkward. At the same time, she didn't want to be caught staring, certainly that would be weird. It didn't help that she could not for the life of her remember how she had gotten in this position or that her head was throbbing painfully in time with her pulse. Every second that passed her brain was constricted with unreasonable force. Of course, that made it all the more difficult to get her memories sorted.

There had been the club, and Morinth, and the apartment, and Samara was more than a little late. Then there was nothing, her mind was utterly blank. And now Miranda was there. Fully clothed thankfully, but there. Her eyelids were fluttering as she slept soundlessly, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, her features relaxed and tranquil.

Shepard studied her with a careful gaze, marveling at how different she looked, at how vulnerable she was. Though Shepard would never say the words aloud, she knew that this moment spoke volumes about Miranda's opinion of her. To be there by her side as she slept was a privilege Shepard figured few others had gained. Miranda was an incredibly guarded individual - with good reason considering her past – and would not let her defenses down so completely in front of just anyone. The thought alone was enough to puff up Shepard's ego a bit.

Here was Miranda Lawson, Cerberus' top operative and notorious hardass, totally at ease in Shepard's cabin. She was content. She was calm. She was comfortable. She was waking up.

She was _waking up_.

A flood of panic surged through Shepard as she looked on.

Miranda's eyes flickered open briefly, and then immediately clamped shut once more when she was met with the glaring light shining down from the ceiling. Groaning, she ran a hand across her face in an attempt to wake herself up more quickly as she cursed herself for drifting off with the lights still on. She felt stiff from spending the night in her uniform, the material clinging to her warm skin uncomfortably. A shower was definitely in order as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, there was obviously a slight issue she had to deal with first, as she could feel a pair of eyes boring into her from the left. Rolling onto her side slowly, she found herself met with Shepard's confused and somewhat alarmed stare. "Hi," she murmured quietly, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Hi," Shepard returned breathlessly, attempting to remain composed. She wore an unreadable expression as she waited for Miranda to explain, to offer any sort of reason for her presence. Miranda remained silent however, curious as to how the situation would play out if she took a back seat. When the quiet became too much for her, Shepard finally pressed further. "So you're here."

"I am," Miranda agreed, a lazy smirk playing along her lips.

Shepard chuckled, more in relief at seeing whatever had lead them here hadn't upset Miranda in the slightest, rather than finding any real humor in the comment. "Are you going to make me guess? Or-"

Miranda rolled her eyes, though her smile had widened. "I was put on babysitting duty after you apparently popped one too many pills," she mused quietly, pleased that the woman had regained her senses. Admittedly Shepard had proven to be somewhat amusing in her delirious state, but it was good to be engaging in a proper conversation once more.

For her part, Shepard was suddenly being hit with the image of Morinth standing before her, holding out a small bottle with a triumphant grin. Well that explained the state of her head and why she felt like an angry krogan was using her brain as a stress ball. Flushing in embarrassment, she moaned pitifully. "I feel like I've been hit with a truck."

Suddenly, she sobered and a look of panic flashed across her features. "Please don't tell me I have to apologize to Samara for anything."

Offering a sympathetic look, Miranda soothed her fears quickly. "From what I could tell, everything seemed to go smoothly, drug use aside. Samara seemed quite calm when you returned."

Shepard grinned, the comforting caress of relief calming her every nerve. She was glad she didn't let her friend down, even though their success was sure to be a bittersweet one for the tired warrior. As soon as she was able, Shepard would have to make a point of going to check on the asari. "Samara's always calm," she replied to her companion at length.

"Perhaps," Miranda admitted.

With a chuckle, Shepard stretched along the mattress slowly, taking the time to flex each muscle as she shook the sleep from her system. After a long yawn she rolled onto her back and brought her hands up to her stomach to pull at the now uncomfortable top of her uniform. Miranda watched the display silently, yawning herself as she found the action infectious. "You wore your boots in my bed?" Shepard asked unexpectedly when she had glanced down to take a look at her own attire. "Classy," she informed with a smirk.

"You're still in your boots," Miranda pointed out defensively. In all honesty, she had considered trying to make Shepard more comfortable by shedding some of her more impractical pieces of clothing that would be less than conductive to sleep. Her self consciousness had won out over her desire to be helpful however, and she had instead left the woman as she was, reasoning that the situation was inappropriate enough already without anyone's outfit coming off.

"Yeah," Shepard admitted. "But I wasn't in the right state of mind. I was drugged. I don't even remember coming back onboard."

"It's not like I meant to fall asleep here," Miranda shot back, annoyance clear in her tone. She knew she didn't really mean it, but Miranda found she couldn't help herself. The whole situation was rather confusing and so she reverted to her old tactics of snapping and being generally defensive. It felt a bit ridiculous, but then again this whole state of affairs was. Shepard was just lying there, speaking with her casually as though all of the events that had occurred between them the day before had never happened.

Is that what the woman wanted her to do? Pretend like everything was normal and never speak of it again?

Shepard scoffed as she rolled back over on her side to face the other woman, mischief alight in her gaze. "Convenient excuse." She really shouldn't have been doing that, heading down that road. Shepard couldn't help herself though. Miranda was watching her carefully, eyes focused and attentive despite remaining slightly glazed with the last few remnants of sleep. She looked so stunning lying on her side like that, lips slightly parted, hair mussed, cheeks flushed. Shepard never even stood a chance. She was saying the words before she had even really processed their implication. "How do I know you didn't have your way with me?"

Miranda raised an eyebrow, surprised at the boldness of the comment. Maybe Shepard _did _intend to act on whatever was going on between them. It was fine by her of course. If Shepard wanted to play those kinds of games, Miranda was always up for the challenge. She had had her fair share of experience over the years, and she _always_ had the upper hand.

"Trust me," she replied suggestively, leaning in dangerously close while being sure to never break eye contact, "_that, _you would remember."

Shepard swallowed hard, choking back equal parts apprehension and desire, having no doubt she would.

It was back again, the feeling, the dilemma. Figuring out what Miranda was, what she could be, was proving to be a difficult task. There was something about the woman that was spellbinding, intoxicating. At first, Shepard had attributed her growing feelings to be merely misplaced admiration and immense gratitude. Miranda had brought her back, had restored her to life. Of course that would provide them with some sort of bond.

That quickly proved to be an inaccurate assumption however as she found herself growing more invested in the woman. At first it had been about her. Every conversation had been about Shepard's comfort. Easing her troubled mind, soothing her conscience, keeping her calm. It was all about Shepard.

And then somewhere along the lines Miranda had become her focus, and now they found themselves at a crossroads because whatever was going through Shepard's head, it appeared as though Miranda was suffering the effects as well. Of course Shepard had no way of knowing what exactly her second in command's emotions towards her entailed - apart from striking up an undoubtedly awkward conversation of course - which was a frightening thought in and of itself.

After all, it was Miranda who had brought up the idea of casual physical attraction not a day earlier. She was the one who had assumed that that was where Shepard's interests lie, so it would stand to reason that that idea coincided with her own desires, would it not? It was a troubling notion to consider, the idea that Miranda may simply be looking for a way to relieve some stress.

Shepard gazed into the eyes that were a mere couple of inches from her own, searching for the answer within them. She felt so foolish in that moment as she tried to find the response she didn't want to admit to herself she craved. What true interest could she possibly hold for someone like Miranda beyond a professional one? Okay, maybe she hadn't pulled away when Shepard had initiated their little moment down in her cabin, but how could she ever desire more than something physical?

Shepard was broken, unstable. She had proven time and again just how very fragile she was. Miranda knew more than anyone the truth of the situation. There was no possible way she had been deluded into believing Shepard was the same infallible hero everyone else in the universe had dubbed her. So what was this? What was Miranda looking for?

The bewilderment in Shepard's gaze was clear, and Miranda felt a stab of sympathy for the woman as she studied her reaction to the rather obvious invitation she had just extended. She didn't regret saying the words, only the clear turmoil they were putting her friend through. Shepard was blatantly struggling with sorting her desires from her ethics, and Miranda was not making the situation any easier for either of them.

The rational part of her brain was screaming at her to back off, that Shepard had already asserted her stance on the issue and had committed herself to the interest of another. She could only end up getting hurt. And yet she ignored her own mind, unable to quell the stab of hope that had flared up in the very core of her. Whether the other woman wanted to admit it or not, Shepard clearly felt something towards her, something Miranda was desperate to explore.

It felt so new, so different than anything she had previously experienced. The way Shepard always looked at her with such obvious regard, the respect her gaze held, it was invigorating. She was accepting, she challenged Miranda's beliefs frequently without ever resorting to being condescending or cruel. There was an understanding between them, mutual esteem.

Though she couldn't identify it, though she had never experienced it before, something was definitely stirring in Miranda. It was growing with each day that passed and she found herself lying there, in that moment, loathe to let it die. Whatever it was, she needed to see it flourish to completion.

It was her who took the leap that time. Miranda was the one who leaned forward slowly, brushing their lips together with calculated leisure to frustrate Shepard and spur her into action. Her method was successful of course, her methods were _always _successful. Shepard responded instantly, abandoning all hesitation and losing herself in Miranda without a second thought.

She had the woman flush against her in an instant, relishing in the way they molded so perfectly into one another, not an ounce of wasted space between them. There was none of the tentativeness they had experienced in the early stages of their last encounter. Each knew what to expect from the other, how to respond in the way that left the other trembling.

Slowly, Shepard leaned forward into Miranda, coaxing the other woman onto her back, laying atop her in very much the same way she had last time. The location may have been different, but Shepard fully intended to continue where they had left off. Their lips moved in perfect sync, leaving her baffled as to how she had found the strength to pull away last time. How had Miranda even been able to keep her head, let alone remember the cameras.

The cameras.

_The fucking goddamn piece of shit cameras._

"Wait." Shepard had managed to pull back at her realization and glance down at the woman beneath her, but she was fighting hard to focus on her thoughts. Or, more accurately, anything that wasn't Miranda. "We uh," she trailed off as her eyes began to wander of their own accord. The abnormally swift rise and fall of Miranda's chest, the way her hair laid splayed out along the pillow, the hungry glint in her unfaltering gaze, it all made for an unreasonably distracting sight.

What had she wanted to say? Had she even been talking?

Miranda flashed her a knowing smirk, taking the opportunity to squirm a bit under her companion and make the process even more problematic. "We what?"

Shepard glared down at her halfheartedly, catching onto her game. Clearing her throat, she tried again, this time finding her endeavors far more successful. "Cameras," she said at last, dropping down to rest her forehead against Miranda's. "You have to take care of the cameras."

Miranda stilled at that, trying to push away the feeling of déjà vu that swept over her. She panicked a bit at the memory of the day before, at how quickly things had turned sour. There was no desire in her to leave the bed, to get up and allot Shepard enough time to ponder her life choices. For whatever reason, Miranda wanted this, and she didn't know if she could bear being set up only to be rejected in favor of another once again.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to refocus herself.

It was the heat of Shepard resting so securely between her thighs that calmed her. They were there, together, and she wasn't going to sit back passively this time. Miranda was going to take control.

"No," she said simply as she stared up at Shepard with a challenging glint in her eye.

It earned her a disbelieving chuckle. "No?"

Miranda leaned up to close the few centimeters of empty space between them, capturing Shepard's lips with possessive ferocity. She wasn't getting out of it this time. Shepard had started it, had gotten her into this whole messy entanglement, and Miranda wasn't backing down until she finished the job. She felt Shepard's fingers tangle through her hair as she poured all of her frustrations from the past few days into the kiss, sure that her companion felt every moment of the uncertainty and desire she had experienced. The fear of dismissal, the elation of a hidden longing being realized, all of it poured into one act.

When she was finally released, Shepard looked down on her, eyes wide, breathing labored, clearly more than a little affected. Miranda smiled deviously, running her hands up along Shepard's sides until they crossed over the curve of her shoulders and met behind the commander's neck to pull the woman down closer. "Fuck the cameras," she all but sighed out, claiming Shepard once more.

For a moment she succumbed, completely lost in the action, but eventually Shepard managed to pull back from Miranda's grasp, a smile playing along the line of her lips. "Miranda," she said in false warning, knowing that after all was said and done the woman beneath her would be disgusted with the fact she had allowed her employer to catch a glimpse of them in a situation so intimate.

Miranda bit her lip, losing some of her former confidence. She stared up at Shepard pleadingly. "I don't want to," she admitted barely above a whisper, looking almost disgusted with herself as soon as the words passed her lips.

Shepard's heart positively soared and she had to bite back an affectionate smile, knowing Miranda would be embarrassed if forced to witness it.

She had her answer.

All of the uncertainty she had felt didn't matter, it was a fleeting and inconsequential thought best left to the past. Miranda wanted her there, truly wanted her, and that really made every other issue meaningless. Nothing mattered because Miranda was there and even though she would die before admitting it, she was _good._ She was kind, and compassionate, and brilliant, and _there._

Shepard felt a sort of certainty with the woman. This was more than sex, more than simple infatuation. She cared about Miranda. She wanted to hear about all of her ambitions and goals, listen to as much of her past as she was willing to offer, share in every experience moving forward. There was nothing to hide from any more, she knew what this was.

There were a million more things to sort out of course. There was the Alliance and Cerberus. There were her friends and her enemies. There were Collectors and Reapers. There was Liara and the Illusive Man. But in that moment, none of it mattered because for the first time since she had been revived, Shepard felt one hundred percent alive.

She wasn't going to run away this time. Instead, she leaned forward to bury her face into Miranda's neck, planting a soft kiss on the skin there, pouring out every bit of emotion she could. "I'm not going anywhere," she assured her quietly.

Her tone alone invoked a shiver from Miranda that ran right down her spine. She shuddered beneath Shepard as the woman pulled back to offer a meaningful look, understanding that in those few words, there had been a thousand promises.

"Okay," she managed to shakily breathe out at length. As Shepard slowly slid off her, releasing her from her hold, Miranda wondered if that would always be her fate from then on. To trust Shepard so completely, to take her at her word without a second thought. It seemed so unbelievable, so foolish after the betrayals she had suffered all her life, and yet, apparently that was to be the way of things because she was standing and moving towards Shepard's desk with purpose.

She took a seat in the well used chair, tapping into Shepard's terminal and fervently praying that she could access what she needed to from that particular platform and wouldn't have to be reduced to traveling all the way downstairs. At that point, if that was the case she would be dragging Shepard along with her.

She glanced up once to peer at the display case where Shepard had taken to setting up her completed model ships. Her collection had grown considerably, Miranda mused, before catching her commander's eye through the glass. Shepard sat silently, a disarming grin spread across her face as she waited patiently for Miranda to return to her side, and the sight alone forced Miranda to drop her gaze. There was so much open admiration in that expression, the sincerity of it made her almost uneasy and she felt her stomach churn.

Swallowing, she refocused her attention on the terminal before her.

That was when it caught her eye, the message sent in from the Illusive Man, marked as urgent and critical. She tried to ignore it, she really did. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, almost like a warning to steer clear. And yet, she really couldn't help herself. It was a bad habit of hers, snooping, nosing around in other people's business. She never tried to amend it however, as often it had proven an invaluable trait that had saved her life on numerous occasions. No one could get the one up on you if you were ten steps ahead of them at all times.

As soon as she had finished reading through the message, Miranda's heart sank in her chest. She knew what had to be done.

"Shepard," Miranda called out softly, her eyes scanning the words on the screen before her once more, making sure not a detail had been missed.

She hated herself for it, really she did. It was all Shepard's fault of course. A couple of months ago she would have merely exited out of the message and returned to Shepard's side. Hell, she probably would have deleted the damn thing if it served her interest.

It was different now though. _She _was different. Miranda had to tell Shepard because it was the right thing to do, that was the truth of it, plain and simple.

"You should take a look at this."

Shepard was up in an instant, making her way to stand behind Miranda and peer down at the terminal with interest. "What's up?" she questioned curiously as her hands idly moved to rest on the other woman's shoulders.

Miranda leaned back into the touch, cursing herself for being so goddamn noble. Once again, everything had come grinding to a halt and she had no one to blame but herself. Tilting her head back to look up at Shepard as she hovered overhead, Miranda offered a small grimace before speaking, "It's from the Illusive Man."

Shepard's face hardened and her eyes flicked from Miranda's face back to the terminal. There were a few moments of silence as Shepard absorbed the information, and then she scoffed loudly. "Looks like someone is trying to get back in my good graces after that stunt he pulled on the collector ship."

Ignoring the jab at her employer, Miranda straightened up in her chair. "The lead could very well be time sensitive. Delaying for too long might result in losing the element of surprise or the Shadow Broker wizening up to Cerberus being on his trail."

Shepard took a step back, crossing her arms as she nodded. "Not to mention that for all we know, the base of operations could be a mobile one. We'll have to move quickly to be able to put this to any real use."

Miranda took a heavy breath before she stood and faced the other woman. "Exactly," she replied, struggling with the simple word. It was _really_ turning out to be an awful couple of days.

There was a pause for a few moments as the two stared one another down. "You don't have to come obviously. The decision is totally up to you," Shepard offered awkwardly at length, trying to work out what exactly Miranda was thinking. The last thing she wanted was to upset the woman, and she wanted to make sure her XO neither felt like she was being benched, nor felt as though she were being dragged along forcibly.

Miranda's heart leapt up to catch in her throat as it warred with her mind. She wanted to be there, more than anything, and yet it was the last thing in the universe she wanted to do.

It was all very confusing.

She was afraid of letting Shepard meet with Liara without her present, especially when she would be bearing such an invaluable gift. It was selfish, possessive, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't that she didn't trust Shepard, it was that they hadn't even discussed anything. She felt like they were in this weird limbo with one another, a state of perpetual uncertainty. Nothing was set in stone, and Miranda found herself certain that if she let Shepard go now, nothing ever would be.

At the same time, she _really _didn't want to spend the day trailing after her and Liara like an unwanted pet. Not to mention this was now the third time she had been left unsatisfied and frustrated beyond belief because of that damn asari, so she was unsure of how civil she would be able to manage being should they come face to face once more.

In the end, despite her perfectly valid reasons not to go, paranoia won out and Miranda knew that if she wasn't on that mission she'd be pacing around the Normandy until the moment they returned. "Of course, I will," she said with as calming a tone as she was able to muster. "It's really no problem at all."

They stood before one another for a few moments and shared a rather painful silence, neither knowing the appropriate course of action to take next. Finally, Shepard offered an almost shy smile.

"It seems like we're getting worse and worse at this whole 'talking through issues' thing."

Despite everything, Shepard still managed to be so very Shepard, and Miranda found herself genuinely laughing in response.

"I'll say."

* * *

A/N: I'm really excited for pouty Miranda. Also, I'm laughing so hard because this fic started with this wee little stupid plot idea and now it's been 14 chapters and that plot hasn't even been mentioned. I'm such a loser and I'm drowning in otp. I also stayed up til 3 last night writing another AU that is slowly taking over my brain, halp.

Anywho, at least Shepard seems to have gotten her lady feelings in order, so that's a plus.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I know, I know, I suck. It's not even like I can say I was taking the time to make an ~amazing chapter~. I just spat this out this afternoon I'm sorry to say, which is pretty crappy of me. BUT, if you guys stick around we can get past this game and move on to *dundumbaboo* Original stuff! WHOOP! I'm excited. I also wrote the end, like the _real _end, and I'm excited to get there. So let's suffer through the draggy stuff and move along to bigger and better things. :D

*Clears throat* anyway, back on topic, I tried to make this chapter fairly goofy to up the fun quotient of this story a bit. The second half of this fic is going to get kind of heavy at times so I figure we should laugh while we can, eh? (wow that sounds ominous. I promise it won't be like dark or anything.)

* * *

"Who's Feron?" Shepard asked curiously, peering over the top of the data pad she had just handed over to Liara with interest. They were in the asari's office, Miranda and Garrus standing silently by the door, offering the women some space as they awaited orders.

"He was a friend," Liara replied, setting the pad down on the desk. "He helped me recover your body from the Shadow Broker." Her eyes darted over to meet Miranda's gaze, and a meaningful message passed between them. The friend Cerberus had abandoned, a fact which Miranda had to own even if she had nothing to do with the decision.

There was something else in the gaze too, Miranda had seen it, even if Liara had only lingered on her for the slightest of moments. It was as if she were being studied, evaluated. Almost as if the asari was coming to some sort of conclusion about her, which was odd in and of itself because…

_Oh my god she knows. _

Dread overwhelmed Miranda, heating through her system in a flash, and leaving her having to mentally wrestle it to the back of her mind.

_No, there's no way. That's impossible._

"Were you two close?" Shepard successfully kept any accusation out of her voice, but everyone present understood her interest in the response. Liara leaned back against the desk she stood in front of, a telling expression gracing her features. She didn't think Shepard had the right to ask that question, it was all over her face.

_She totally knows. _

Again, a rush of heat flooded her body. She had come to protect Shepard, there was nothing in the job description about personal altercations. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. They were adults, there wasn't exactly going to be a catfight. Just because this was something she had never experienced before didn't mean she had to be scared of it.

_It's not a big deal. It's not even your fault, you don't owe her anything. Shepard's the one who…. You could have backed off at any minute and she knows it…_

"I owe him everything," Liara finally admitted at length. "He sacrificed himself for my sake." The asari smiled softly, and heaved a sigh as though the entire weight of the known universe had been lifted from her shoulders.

_Stop. She doesn't know. Even if she did she wouldn't care. Stop being paranoid, she has better things to do than to keep tabs on your personal life. She doesn't know, that's absolutely ridiculous. _

Shepard nodded her understanding. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. What's the next step?"

Liara looked a bit lost, clearly overwhelmed at how quickly everything she had been working so hard for had fallen into her lap. "I need to prepare, to think. I'm going home." She walked towards the door of her office slowly, almost dazed.

"You okay?" Shepard called after her, the concern in her voice clear.

Liara turned and smiled more sincerely then, clearly in Shepard's response to offer help so quickly. "I've spent two years plotting revenge," she said softly, and her gaze flickered over to meet Miranda's once more. "Now I have the chance to make it a rescue."

_She definitely knows. _

"Let us help," Shepard replied. "We'll come by your apartment."

Liara turned to look back at Shepard. "Okay, hopefully I'll have a plan by then. Thank you, Shepard." And then she was gone.

_Probably should have stayed on the ship._

* * *

"Wow, well that's certainly," Miranda trailed off for a moment, searching for the right word.

_Bizarre. _

_Uncomfortable. _

_Creepy. _

_Obsessive. _

"Decorative?" she tried at last.

Garrus gave something akin to a snicker beside her. "Come on, let's try over there."

Miranda took one last look at the armor in the display case before following. Shepard was upstairs at the moment, as they had decided to split up and speed their search, but she had no doubt that their commander would have a thing or two to say about the little shrine if they had the time. As it were though, Shepard was far too concerned with ensuring the asari's safety for her usual quips.

Things had quickly taken a turn for the worse since they had reached Liara's apartment building. The apparent attack on Liara and her subsequent vanishing act was concerning enough alone, and now they had to work with this Tela Vasir. Miranda had never heard of her, which in and of itself was a red flag. It had been her business to know everything there was to know about Shepard and her relations during the early stages of Lazarus. Spectres, by association, had become part of her studies. Either the asari was a new recruit, or she was waist deep in incredibly classified operations that Cerberus hadn't been able to get a hold of.

Though she had followed Garrus downstairs to hunt for any clues left by Liara at Shepard's command without argument, Miranda kept her attentions focused on the floor above. Vasir had been well informed on the events that had taken place in the apartment, almost unreasonably so. The way she had so confidently described the situation was unsettling, and then she had proceeded to kick out all of the law enforcement officials, effectively isolating them. Something just didn't feel right about the whole turn of events, and if Shepard was too distracted with worrying about Liara to see it, then it was Miranda's job to keep her safe.

Why would a Spectre even be interested in a case like this? Liara was an information broker, not some noble official the council had a personal interest in protecting. She was nothing to them, unless Vasir had been tasked with hunting down the Shadow Broker as well. Though she had appeared ignorant of the broker being involved until Shepard had dropped the name, it could have easily been an act. That would be the only logical explanation of her presence, considering she should have just let Illium's police force do their job. At the very most she should have merely offered them aid.

The idea that perhaps she really was just trying to help solve the case without personal gain could quickly be rubbed out. It was glaringly obvious to Miranda from the short conversation they had held that Vasir had a bit of an attitude. A Spectre like Shepard might take interest in the case out of the goodness of her heart, but Vasir wanted something. They just had to figure out what.

Or, at least Miranda did. Shepard could be trusting to a fault sometimes. Luckily for her health, that was not a trait Miranda shared.

She turned to watch Garrus prodding uncertainly at some sort of prothean entity or other, trying to invoke a reaction from the inanimate object. Wistfully, Miranda wondered if she might make more of an effort to learn about the protheans in the future. It was becoming increasingly apparent that their fates were heavily entwined with current societies, and though she made a point of never dwelling in the past, perhaps it would prove beneficial in her future to gather a better grasp on the species.

Her musings were interrupted as Shepard tromped down the stairs, graceless in her frustration. "Any luck?" she questioned halfheartedly, already knowing the answer. Both Garrus and Miranda shook their heads, and their leader sighed before scouring the room for more objects of interest.

Miranda tailed her to another display, keeping a wary eye on Vasir as the asari shuffled around in the kitchen area. Shepard stood in front of the item staring at it blankly, as though waiting for it to stand and reveal where Liara had fled to all on its own.

"Shepard," Miranda said softly as she approached, careful to keep her voice low. "What do you know about Vasir?"

"Hmm?" The woman glanced back at her, an eyebrow raised. "Not much of anything, I'm afraid." She turned her focus back towards the item before her, glancing about in search of some sort of trigger or button.

That wasn't very reassuring. "Have you ever even heard of her?"

Shepard gave a dry laugh. "Well, I didn't exactly have time for a get-to-know-your-coworkers party after the induction ceremony. I was a tad busy charging off after Saren, and then you know," she grimaced, "dying and stuff." She trailed off, her attention back on her search.

"You know," Shepard whispered quietly when Miranda didn't respond, gesturing to the prothean artifact before them, "these all honestly look like rocks to me."

Relaxing a bit at the playfulness of the comment despite herself, Miranda hummed in agreement, amusement clear in her voice. "Expensive rocks."

Shepard chuckled as she tentatively reached up and stroked the display. There was an immediate reaction as the stand it rested on made a quiet clicking noise and a hidden shelf popped out. A backup disk rested innocently before them and Miranda felt Shepard relax beside her at some progress finally being made. She had to remind herself that Shepard caring about the wellbeing of others was a good thing, it was one of the things she liked about her. There really was no need for the stab of irritation that had run through her at the action.

"Vasir, we've got something here," Shepard called out as she picked up the small drive.

Miranda bit her lip and fought the urge to roll her eyes. She would have much preferred Shepard hiding the data on her person and then taking her and Garrus to continue the investigation on their own. Now she would have to be on her guard against the asari every minute.

* * *

They watched the upper floors of the Dracon Trade Center ignite with wide eyes, speechless. Screams could be heard from all around at the explosion, as debris and ash sprinkled down around them. It was Shepard who broke the silence.

"Liara's in there," she cried, the panic in her voice palpable as she took a few steps forward.

Vasir was by her side in an instant. "They just took out three floors to make sure she's dead." There was a short pause, and then she turned to the commander. "I'll grab the skycar and seal off the building from the top."

Silently, Miranda cursed. She was nowhere near keen to the idea of Vasir running off on her own unsupervised. Briefly she toyed with the notion of offering to join the asari, but her emotions overtook her good sense. Things were clearly getting out of hand and if they were as shady as she suspected she didn't want to leave Shepard's side. Unfortunately, she wasn't in a position where she could suggest Garrus leaving with the woman either without rising the Spectre's suspicions.

Miranda would have to just hope for the best, and pray her instincts were way off the mark.

"I'll start here and work my way up," Shepard called over her shoulder as she headed towards the blast.

Garrus and Miranda trailed her closely, entering the smoldering building without hesitation while Vasir took off. Miranda found herself all but praying for Liara to have escaped the blast unharmed. Her overwhelming bout of bitterness and the insecurities the uncertainty of the situation had forced upon her had so far proven to be unbearably draining as it was. There was no need to add a steaming pile of guilt on top of all that.

* * *

Miranda squatted down beside Garrus and peered over the low wall to take a glance at their opponents. The room was absolutely filled with them, hinting that the fight may take a bit more time than they really had to spare. She shared a meaningful look with Garrus as she ducked back down, and he nodded his understanding. Shepard was kneeling behind a desk a few paces in front of them, and brought a hand to her ear.

"Vasir, we're pinned down. Mercs - and they're well armed," she informed their new cohort, attempting to give her fellow Spectre warning, should she face the same resistance on her own travels.

"Say hello to the Shadow Broker's private army, Commander," the asari returned smoothly. There was not a hint of surprise or concern in her voice, no alarm to be heard. She was completely passive.

Miranda bit back a groan. Why hadn't she trusted herself to be right? She was _always _right. As soon as the firefight was over, they needed to cut the comm link connection and have a chat.

Of course, life was never that easy. They were forced to swim through a sea of the mercs, and Vasir's presence in their communicators left Miranda unable to speak freely. Not that her being disconnected would have really allowed for conversation though, the constant hail of bullets they were being forced to move through made that pretty difficult.

They were travelling through one room after the other without rest, and before they knew it, they were passing through a doorway to find themselves face to face with the Spectre once more. Almost as if the mercs had been throwing themselves at their squad merely to slow their progress forward down and give Vasir time. To do what, Miranda was still unsure.

The asari stood over the body of a mercenary and a salaraian, her expression unreadable. She glanced over at their entrance and holstered her pistol. "Damn it, if I had been a few seconds faster, I could've stopped them."

Shepard put her own rifle away and Garrus followed suit without question. Miranda did the same, but her hand hovered over her weapon, fingers twitching as she kept herself primed. As long as she didn't let on that she was aware of Vasir's less than honest behavior, it was likely the asari would remain passive until either Liara or the Shadow Broker himself was found, depending on what exactly her objective was. All she had to do was keep Shepard out of harm's way, as clearly the woman wasn't looking out for herself.

Concern had overwhelmed Shepard into developing an acute case of tunnel vision. She was so filled with fear for Liara's safety she was blind to the signs of betrayal. In a way, that left Miranda in charge to some extent. She'd let Vasir carry out her plans, let her expose just who she was working for, and then she'd strike, defending her team from harm.

Shepard moved into the room, kneeling before the salarian, sorrow plain on her face. "Is this Sekat?"

"Must have been."

Miranda tensed as their leader exposed her back to Vasir, leaving herself completely vulnerable to attack. They would _really _need to have a talk about this when everything was said and done. She understood that Shepard was never one to be able to completely shut off her emotions, but a little show of self preservation would be appreciated.

Blinking, Miranda considered the fact she would not have been so accommodating to Shepard's emotional state just a few months earlier. She would have probably offered nothing but scorn to the woman, berating her for being unable to focus on the mission and looking down on her for allowing her feelings to hinder her ability to sense danger.

Now though, she had no right to judge. Not merely because she had changed, but because she had experienced the same fate. Not too long ago she had been in the exact same position as Shepard, chasing after a loved one and blind to the obvious deceit happening just in front of her. Shepard had followed her dutifully then, never looking down on her or offering any condescending words. She had stood by Miranda's side, though she had clearly sensed the betrayal for quite some time, only interfering when her squad mate had most needed her.

Now, Miranda was determined to give Shepard that same courtesy.

"No sign of that data Liara talked about," Shepard sighed out in frustration as she stood. "Looks like a dead end." She turned back to face them, clearly distraught. They had lost the data and were no closer to finding Liara. She could very easily be long since dead, and they may never know what happened.

_Pull yourself together, Shepard. If that merc was the one who had just killed Sekat a few seconds ago like Vasir claimed then he would have the data on his body. _

"Speaking of which," Vasir replied, almost sounding cruel, "did you find your friend's body?"

Miranda's hand clamped around her pistol. That was it, the show was over. Vasir had just confirmed it was the data she was after, along with Liara's death. The council wasn't involved, this had all been to protect both the Shadow Broker's identity and location. Now that the job was done, the asari had no more use for them.

"You mean this body?"

Before Miranda had time to react, Liara had appeared, pistol drawn and steadily aimed at Vasir's head.

"Liara," Shepard called out in delight, her face softening as relief swam through her. It didn't take long for her brow to scrunch up in confusion however. She raised a hand, trying to calm her old friend. "This is Vasir," she explained quickly. "She's a Spectre."

Miranda rolled her eyes, keeping her pistol trained on the woman as well.

_Honestly, Shepard…._

Garrus glanced at her, clearly unsure, but apparently confident enough in her to follow her example. Though she knew Liara probably was the cause of some of that faith, she still got a small sense of pride as he too lifted his weapon. Garrus trusted her.

Shepard's face fell as she considered her friends distrust. "This is the woman who tried to kill me," Liara clarified, taking a few careful steps forward.

Miranda felt a surge of pleasure as she watched Vasir's confidence falter and the asari took a few steps back. "You've had a rough day, so I'll let that slide. Why don't you put that gun down?"

"I saw you," Liara pressed. "I doubled back after I left. I watched you break into my apartment."

Not only a traitor, Miranda mused, but a sloppy one at that. Shepard's eyes narrowed in belated realization. "You didn't know where Liara went because she hid the message. You needed me to find it for you."

Miranda bit back a smile at the delayed response. Shepard would definitely be getting teased mercilessly for this later, assuming everything went smoothly from here on out.

_Except not by you. That'll be Liara's job._

Vasir shrugged. "Thanks for the help," she deadpanned.

"Once she had my location, she signaled the Shadow Broker's forces. They bombed the building to take me out," Liara continued. "She found Sekat, took his data, and killed him. I'm guessing she's still got the disk on her."

For her part, Vasir looked irritated at the explanations of her exploits, a sentiment Miranda found herself sharing. It was out now: Vasir bad, Shepard and friends good. There was no need to stand around and talk about it for ten minutes. Every second they lingered without pulling the trigger was a second Vasir had to consider possible escape routes.

"Good guess," the Spectre agent replied, holding up the data drive. "Not that you'll ever see what's on it you pureblood bitch," She punctuated her point by throwing a powerful biotic blast their way, sending a wave of glass from the broken window behind her washing over them.

Liara saved them by hastily throwing up a large barrier, but Vasir's purpose had been served, and she turned to flee as they were distracted. Miranda wasn't sure if it was due to adrenaline or sheer anger at being deceived, but Shepard charged after their attacker like a woman possessed.

Without a second thought she threw herself at the asari, effectively sending them both careening out of the window. Miranda's stomach plummeted as she watched the two wrestling Spectre's disappear from view, and she barely registered Liara leaping out after them.

"Come on," Garrus called out, snapping her out of her shock as he watched Liara charging after Vasir and mercilessly tossing aside anyone who got in her way. "We have to get down there."

In moments they were downstairs, and Miranda helped Shepard to her feet, raking her body with a concerned gaze. Shepard winced as she supported herself, feeling more than a little rattled, but wanting to reassure her friends. "It's okay, it's fine."

As soon as Garrus knew she was in one piece, he started chuckling. "So Liara is a total badass now, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Shepard griped bitterly as she rubbed at the soreness in her right shoulder. "She's great."

He gave her a heavy smack on the back, jostling her a bit painfully. "Oh, did you fall on your ego?" He cooed teasingly.

Shepard rolled her eyes, though a smile spread across her face. "Come on, we don't want to fall behind."

They set off after their quarry, having little trouble figuring out which way they had traveled. After all, all they really had to do was follow the path of rampant destruction.

* * *

Miranda crossed her arms, sourly wishing Garrus had been able to come along. They weren't ones for conversation, but at least awkward small talk would have offered a small distraction from the exchange happening up front. He had been sent back to the Normandy however, and she was left to suffer alone in the back seat of the fast moving skycar.

Miranda Lawson _never _sat in the back seat.

Just in front of her, Shepard and Liara were bickering like an old married couple as they chased down Vasir's vehicle. It was a wild ride, and getting thrown around in the back was starting to make her nauseous. No wonder Garrus had looked almost relieved when he realized he wouldn't be coming along, Shepard was atrocious behind the wheel. By the second truck they narrowly escaped colliding with, Miranda was starting to just wish they would crash and be done with it already.

* * *

If suffering through the stomach-churning car chase hadn't done enough to cement her foul mood, chasing the rogue Spectre through a seedy 'luxury resort' certainly had. The whole ordeal left Miranda bitterly wishing she had but a bullet in Vasir's head as soon as she had suspected foul play back in Liara's apartment.

It was too late to mourn lost opportunities however, and once they were back on firm ground, the asari really hadn't stood much of a chance no matter how much backup she had called in. As soon as she had hit the ground, lifeless, Liara swooped down upon the corpse. Miranda and Shepard looked on from a few paces away, as she secured Sekat's data pad. Vasir had been powerful and tenacious, but apparently not much of a critical thinker when under duress. She should have destroyed the pad as soon as she had had the chance. Now she was gone, and they had the exact information they needed to take down her employer, assuming the intel was good.

"Hopefully that has what we need," Shepard sighed out tiredly before glancing at Miranda. "Help me search these other guys." She gestured towards the multiple bodies around them. "In case Sekat's data doesn't pan out, they might have something on them that could offer some clues."

That didn't make any sort of sense to Miranda. Obviously these were just low level grunts. Pistol fodder for the Shadow Broker to throw mindlessly at an enemy whenever they got too close for comfort, they would hardly have any Intel on him. She doubted even Vasir had met the enigmatic figure. Still, Miranda nodded and did as she was bid, it wasn't her place to argue, and Shepard rarely lead her team astray.

Wordlessly, Liara moved away from the scene, and Shepard waited just a moment before following. She waited until Miranda was out of earshot before she engaged in conversation. As it had been of late, their discussion felt forced and awkward as they worked out their next move. Shepard assured her friend the Normandy would be at her disposal to travel wherever the data lead them.

"We'll get Feron out of there alive, Liara. I promise," Shepard soothed her reassuringly.

"I know," she replied with a small smile. "You're here to help. Just like always." She let out a heavy sigh, averting her eyes away from Shepard's piercing gaze. "Come on, we should get moving. From here on out, things will be simple. Get in, get Feron, get out."

"Wait," Shepard reached out, placing a gentle hand on Liara's arm. "Can you just calm down and talk to me for a minute?"

Liara's eyes narrowed in confusion. "About what?"

"About us," Shepard supplied, exasperated. She couldn't go on like this, it was driving her mad. Shepard was at a complete standstill. She hated herself for what she had put Liara through, and she needed to work through it with her old friend, to make amends and acknowledge the regrets of the past.

"Shepard," Liara said softly, shaking her head, "listen, I'm glad you're here, but-"

Biting her lip, frustrated with the asari's obvious avoidance, Shepard couldn't help but turn bitter. "Are you worried there might be terminals you need me to hack?" She regretted the comment as soon as it had been made, but there was no taking it back.

"That's not fair," Liara defended. Her features hardened suddenly. "You were dead."

"Yeah, people keep reminding me about that," Shepard shot back. "I'm aware, thanks. I'd also like to get it on the record that it wasn't exactly a conscious decision. I'm sick and tired of my _friends_ holding being dead against me as if it was some malicious stunt I pulled." She took a step forward. "I was gone, yeah, but now I'm back."

"Yes, you're back, and it seems like your main concern now is passing time with Miss Lawson and her low cut jumpsuit."

"Hey now," Shepard was ready to defend, but suddenly she faltered, and blanched. Was Liara spying on her now? The Illusive Man was one thing, he was a dirty snake in the grass and she expected such things from a man of his reputation. But Liara? Really? Keeping tabs on her like that when she had made it so clear in person where her priorities lie?

Apparently recognizing the anger forming in Shepard mind, Liara raised a hand to her head with a tired sigh. "Look, Shepard, I'm an information broker. I learn things."

"Maybe if you would have just talked to me for two minutes I could have shared the information myself," Shepard retorted, words drowning in resentment. She was so caught up in her anger she barely registered the third member of their team returning to them, oblivious to the topic of their discussion.

"There was no…" Miranda trailed off, looking between the two women. Liara was staring down an irritated looking Shepard, and Miranda was hit with the sudden desire to be able to dissolve. It was revealed to her then, the purpose of her seemingly meaningless task. The chore had been given to her to keep her out of the way for a few minutes, that was all. Shepard had wanted to spare her from an uncomfortable exchange.

She _really _wished she had taken longer to search the corpses. Honestly, sometimes her efficiency was more of a curse than an asset.

They existed in uncomfortable silence for some time before Liara finally spoke up. "Look, for now, let's focus on getting Feron back."

"Fine," Shepard snapped, and the two set off back towards the area where they had first landed without another word.

Miranda trailed behind them, feeling decidedly dreadful. Nothing made sense anymore. Truthfully, it hadn't since the moment Oriana's shuttle had lifted off Illium all those days ago. It was painfully obvious that Liara and Shepard had been at odds with one another before she had approached, and now the tension in the air was near stifling. Of course, the only thing that would have caused the altercation was her own presence on the mission in the first place, she knew that.

What was she even doing there? In no way did she blame herself for the turn of events, it took two after all. Shepard was more than a little responsible for the state of things. They shared in the guilt, yes, but it was Miranda's fault for the trouble now, wasn't it? She should have backed off, pulled away and let Shepard rekindle or deal with whatever was happening between her and the asari. It wasn't her place to meddle, and she was already way out of line becoming as invested as she was in her assignment.

That's what Shepard was after all. Her project, her assignment. She was way out of her depth with the whole situation. It felt petty to even be thinking it, but there was an air of drama now. She wasn't used to drama of this sort. Overbearing bosses and abusive fathers, yes. Love triangles, no. She didn't get mixed up in those sorts of immature goings on, she was a professional, an adult. How had she so completely stumbled into these affairs of the heart without realizing it?

* * *

A/N: This was a sort of annoying chapter, and proved to be rather poopy. I see Miranda as super insecure, but also mature. It was tougher than I thought trying to find the balance between her being both sulky and acting like a reasonable adult (especially since the temptation to make her super petulant and adorable was hard to resist). I hope she doesn't come across as too petty, because I honestly can't see her like that.


End file.
